Dalton
by CP Coulter
Summary: Post-Furt: Spinning off from Glee, Kurt begins an entirely new chapter in his life at Dalton Academy for Boys. Blaine, Wes, David and the boys of Windsor House make his life, for better or worse, far more eventful than he imagined.
1. Pilot: Windsor House

_Hi, I'm C Coulter, your author for this fic. _

_The idea of this came from turning over ideas in my head about what Kurt and Blaine's life in Dalton might be like... So in fair warning, I think I can safely say that this "Dalton" will not be following the Glee continuity. All the better for it, I imagine-the writers are fantastic and they've got one hell of a hit going, and this work is at best, a dilution of that excellence. _

_Dalton begins after "Furt". Dalton will star Kurt and Blaine, of course, but the rest of the cast will also be given their due emphasis. __It's my own little attempt at a "spinoff" show._

_All that said, I don't require your reviews (but some would be very nice), because I just hope you'll enjoy it or read it as something to kill time. For the most part, I'm letting the characters go on by themselves as I write them down. Also, some of the things that happen here might be taken off from my own experience in private school._

_I hope you enjoy it. :)_

(PS.** I don't own Glee**. If I did, it probably wouldn't be as amazing as it is now.)

* * *

**Dalton**

******Pilot: Windsor House**  


* * *

"…and so I told Mrs. Ramsey that I really didn't care if I have to stay in a dorm; it's long enough a commute for gas money and I just can't stand the thought of having to have my dad pay for any more than he and Carole already have…" Kurt hugged the books to his chest and kept his head down.

Blaine considered this posture. Kurt held himself ramrod straight with good bearing as usual, but the way he kept his head down and refused to look most Dalton boys in the eye made it clear that he had yet to become truly comfortable in the new environment.

Blaine glanced at David, who was looking up from where he had been previously studying sheet music, also glancing at Kurt. The two Warblers exchanged a glance that acknowledged what they had both noticed, and the lead Warbler turned to the prospective one: "Well, we'd be more than happy to have you at our dorm, of course."

"Oh, you board?" Kurt blinked up at him.

"Windsor." Blaine nodded, averting his gaze with as much of a casual air as he could adopt—whenever Kurt bestowed the full power of those incredible cesious eyes (at the moment amplified by the floods of sunlight from the bay windows) towards him, thinking rationally became difficult.

David pretended not to notice the steep drop in Blaine's general intellect and simply rolled his eyes. But he said, "There are still a few rooms free at Windsor, you know." Windsor House, in the East wing was one of the three dormitories of Dalton, the others being Hanover House, farther in the West wing, and Stuart House in the North wing. The South and Main was where all the major classrooms and facilities were housed.

Blaine nodded—just slightly too enthusiastically to be noticed. "We can talk to Mr. Howard for you. He's the head of Windsor House."

"Are you sure that's all right…?" Kurt asked carefully. He had only been to Dalton for a few hours and was still getting his bearings, but even he understood that there were certain societal standings in the school.

Each dormitory was protective of its own fraternal pride and the boys often segregated accordingly when traveling in packs. Kurt marveled at the amount of gossip he'd heard about all this in under a day and concluded that boys talk generally as much as girls do.

"Of course it's all right," David smiled kindly. "Besides, even though the group is a big hodgepodge, there are more Warblers in Windsor than there are in Stuart and Hanover. We're pressed for rehearsal time as it is—it'll be easier for you to catch up if you were practicing with us. Assuming you get accepted, of course." David looked almost apologetic as he amended that last part.

Kurt swallowed and let out his breath. "Right." He nodded. "I get to finally try out."

"Hey, don't worry too much," Blaine smiled. "You'll get in, I'm sure."

Kurt smiled faintly at him. "Thanks, but since you've actually never _heard_ me sing, I'll take your prophecy with a grain of salt." He smirked and lifted one charming eyebrow.

"There's Wes," Blaine then waved his friend over in an attempt to not get snagged by another Kurt-gives-me-an-adorable-expression trap. "And he's still alive! He dodged Madame Saint-Clair's bullet."

Catching sight of the other three, Wes jogged up to them, breaking free from the mass of boys that just came out of the French professor's forum. David greeted him with a grin. "And how did it go? Was there blood? Your brain seems to be intact."

"I refuse to study any more French," Wes sighed with a little melodrama as propriety allowed—he had manifestly determined to help Blaine rein in the madness in Dalton so as not to scare the new boy too much just yet. "If I promise to refuse my parents' yearly trip to Paris, I won't need it anymore, right?"

The others laughed. "I'll help you, if you like," Kurt offered with a grin.

"You?" Wes raised an eyebrow. He glanced at the other two boys before turning back to Kurt, "No offense but…does McKinley drill juniors _that_ hard on Advanced French?"

"Trust me—I can help," Kurt said confidently. "I've over-exaggeratedly given emphasis on French." The red and white uniform that was still hidden in the depths of wardrobe was a testament to that. "If you don't pass next week's oral, I'll buy you lattes for a week."

"Well, what do you know—we _are_ just too lucky to have you." Wes' expression flashed to Blaine, implying something that the other boy might've previously said. Blaine colored up just slightly—but he did "accidentally" jab Wes in the ribs as he cleared his throat and moved forward to keep his place next to Kurt as they walked. The two behind them looked at each other and bumped fists with barely disguised snickers.

Blaine looked at Kurt and gave him a smile. Kurt returned it, still anxious, but felt better.

* * *

_I'm Kurt. And this is Dalton Academy. _

_As you may know, I just transferred here in order to avoid some…difficulties in McKinley. Don't get me wrong: I love the glee club back at McKinley—but the truth is, push came to shove and now…here I am. I'm officially a student at Dalton. _

_My problem is that my plans got as far as actually going to Dalton. Now that I'm actually here, I realize that I've made absolutely no plans as to what I intend to happen to me here._

_Fortunately, I have Blaine, David, and Wes to, for better or worse, lead me to __**some**__ direction._

* * *

"Come on!" David called as he jogged ahead down the steps. "If we want to catch Howard, we've got to get in early into the Dining Hall!"

"What are you talking to Howard for?" Wes asked as he followed.

"Getting the newbie into Windsor."

Wes' smothered burst of derisive laughter was checked by Blaine's glower. Wes backpedaled. "Whoa, I mean, sure. Hey, maybe Howard won't kill us if we ask this time. Gee, good luck getting up to the professor's table, David, I won't be joining you, but I'll be sending flowers to your grave."

"Is there something about Mr. Howard I should know about?" Kurt asked, blanching just a little. "I_ am_ to meet the man and I think I'd like to remain intact after I do."

"It's not you, it's us," Blaine sighed. "This isn't the first time we've tried to get someone into Windsor."

"Or the second," chipped in David.

"Or third," added Wes.

"Or fifth."

"Or sixth."

"What is going on here?" Kurt stared.

"New people don't last long at Windsor…" Wes smiled faintly. "And when they do, it doesn't really help Windsor's case."

"Why?"

The other three paused, looking at each other. Kurt looked at them and gestured expectantly. "Well?"

David grinned. "We're not supposed to scare you this early, Blaine said so."

The lead Warbler lunged at him—David ducked, tucked, rolled and sprang up again—but Blaine turned back to Kurt and responded, "Don't listen to him. It's just that it takes a special kind of person to tolerate some of the crazy that goes on in Windsor. Not just in the common room. It's…everywhere."

Kurt, a veteran of madness who had survived over a year of glee at McKinley where he had been drunk, slushied, had walked around as Lady Gaga, had been a football player, a cheerleader, had experienced hallucinations, some incredibly wild performance numbers, dealt with a psychopathic cheerleading coach, a neurotic guidance counselor, a glee teacher stuck in the 80s, accrued a heated battle against soulless robots (Vocal Adrenaline) and, most importantly, had dealt with the issues of the entire glee club and Rachel Berry (who deserves a separate mention), now lifted an eyebrow.

"Crazy?"

* * *

"No."

Blaine turned up the wattage of his smile. "Come on, Mr. Howard, seriously. You're not going to have a problem with Kurt."

"That's what you said when you brought Dwight."

"And Dwight is still in Windsor!" David exclaimed happily.

"Unfortunately, he still is," the tall sprightly man glowered down at them. "When you told me that he had odd habits, you didn't say it was that he was even more superstitious than an old homemaker in the 1800s."

"So he likes to hang cloves of garlic at his windows…" Wes, who, despite his better judgment, decided to participate in getting the new one into Windsor to spare them Blaine's promise of undying vengeance should he not, tried to adopt a nonchalant tone. "We've already convinced him to stop lining his doorways with salt!"

"And we told him to stop "ghost hunting" at the old cathedral!" David supplied. "…how's the caretaker doing, by the way?"

"I don't know what kind of food coloring Dwight used, but as I understand that "brand" on Mr. Tamerlane's arm is still there!" Howard all but roared. Blaine winced, grateful that they'd caught the house head while he was still in the hall. They were given a few odd looks by some passing Hanover boys who may have known what was up. Kurt remained at one side, quiet, seemingly intent on trying to ignore what he was hearing.

"And seriously, Kurt is more normal than some of us," Blaine said with a smile. "He went to his old school's glee club—that's about it. We were hoping he'll join the Warblers."

"If you want him to join your group, that's fine, but he'll be complaining me in a week, I'm sure," Howard crossed his arms over his chest.

"Actually," Kurt finally said, and they looked at him, "I've put up with quite a lot of strange things at my old school, I'm sure this is…fine."

Howard seemed to be taken aback by this and moved past the other three boys. He looked Kurt over through his spectacles. Kurt looked up at the man's great height and did the same.

Todd Howard had been the head of Windsor house for nearly twenty years. Having been given that position allowed him to watch the nation's future leaders come and go from Windsor House, some of them returning to visit on occasion. In recent years, things often did not go as peacefully as he liked. Sometimes even less. Windsor may be a very popular house, but if there was anything about it that was notable, it would be that life is never (for better or for worse) boring. Making a living out of refereeing all this at the very least allowed him to read a boy's bearings early on. He gave Kurt a look over.

"What's your name, son?"

"Kurt Hummel, sir," Kurt smiled.

Howard considered the small boy with the elfin features. "So you sing?"

"Yes."

"Is that all?"

"Well…I like fashionable clothes."

"And?"

"And what?"

"Unusual sleeping habits? Food allergies? Odd hobbies? Tendencies to destroy property? Uproot magnolias out of compulsion? Walk backwards? Release lab animals? Recite the entire _Summa Theologica_? In **_Latin_**?"

Kurt was barely able to stop giving him an "are you crazy?" expression. He instead looked at the corner of his eyes to Blaine. Blaine just shrugged, trying not to smile. Howard saw where he was looking and glanced back to Blaine, who immediately put on another charming grin. David and Wes were veritable twin angels who looked like they had no idea what Howard was talking about.

Howard turned back to Kurt. "Are you _positive_ that you would like to board at Windsor?"

"I don't see why I shouldn't."

The coughing from Wes and David nearly gave it all away, but even Howard seemed to understand. He sighed and looked at Kurt. "Fine. Windsor it is." He turned to the other three. "I'll be keeping an eye on _this_ one, make sure you boys don't scar him too much. After Marcus Holland fled Windsor for Stuart—"

"His loss!" David scoffed.

"—Reed thought he was sick and was just trying to help—" Wes added.

"Which is why he threw _twenty two_ comforters on top of him while he slept?"

"Guys!" Blaine snapped.

Silence. The three boys looked at Mr. Howard expectantly, and Howard looked at the new boy, cogitating. Kurt took this opportunity to give Mr. Howard his best "I-really-don't-give-a-damn" expression.

"So when do I move in?"

* * *

Kurt had read all about the school's housing in the pamphlet he ended up reading during the truly awkward one and a half hour ride to Westerville with his father on this first day of school. As far as background went, it seemed as though all the dormitories were desirable and extravagant in ordinary standards as majority of Dalton's elite student body resided in them. As it stood, Windsor House was by far the most desirable house, with a great deal of accomplished alumni graduating from it and all but being hand-delivered to Ivy League schools.

That was how it looked like from the black-and-white. When Blaine, Wes and David brought Kurt to Windsor for the first time, that massive manor-style building with ancient columns and could put some of the nation's best collegiate fraternity houses to shame, it looked as though it would live up to everything it had been acclaimed to be. And it did, in one way or another.

"You…all live here?" Kurt asked, watching some boys go into the dormitories. Inside, past the oak doors, a vaulted entrance hall greeted them. The floor was marble and across the great wooden beams overhead that broke the sunlight, a massive drop-down banner in deep royal blue cut through with a golden ray, Windsor's colors.

The architecture was exquisite; from the rich tints of the wood to the elegant hues of the walls and the tasteful décor, Windsor might as well have been an exhibit at a museum depicting old world elegance.

"Yes, well…Wes used to be in Hanover," Blaine smiled.

"Really?" asked Kurt, following the others down the hall. "Why did you switch?"

"It was more exciting here."

"All right, I might be starting to get a _little_ nervous," Kurt said, frowning at them.

Blaine laughed and put his arm around his shoulders. While Kurt tried to restrain his heart from flying out of his chest at this sudden action, Blaine tried to exude feigned coolness. "Okay, look, those things that we talked about with Howard—they're extreme cases. The boys here are rational—mostly. Don't worry. We wouldn't actually put you in danger."

Something upstairs exploded, making Kurt jump. Everyone in the hall barely batted an eye. Without so much as breaking his stride, Wes pulled out a fire extinguisher standing at nearby and handed it to a boy who was seemed to have arrived in the hall for that very reason. Everyone carried on.

Before Kurt could marvel at this, his phone rang. He pulled it out and read the text.

_Hey Kurt! You at Dalton? What are you up to? –M_

Kurt smiled and quickly replied. _Thinking of boarding. –K_

_So…you'll only be around on weekends? –M_

Kurt felt a twinge. He'd seen the look on Mercedes' face when he had announced his intention to leave. She was the first person who he should have talked to about it and in the end, she had been one of the last. Even he had to admit that after all that he and Mercedes had been through together, she deserved more than a last minute announcement without even consulting her prior to his decision.

_Sorry, M. I just thought it would help Dad and Carole if I stopped commuting so much. -K_

_I get that. Don't worry about it. –M_

_You know I'll be right over in a heartbeat if you need me, right? –K_

_Kurt, relax. We understand. And don't worry, we'll catch up on everything on weekends. –M_

There's that "we" that Kurt was dreading. It hadn't just been Mercedes. It was the whole club. He started to wonder what they were doing now. It was lunch time, so they must be in the cafeteria, or maybe even in the music room rehearsing for whatever performance Mr. Schuester had planned for them. Mike, Tina and Mercedes would be dancing, to what Puck might be playing on the guitar, and Artie might be trying to explain to Brittany that facials were not things done by fascists. Santana and Quinn might be discussing some madness by coach Sylvester while Sam kept his arm around Quinn. Rachel would be baffling Finn by obsessing about rehearsals, and since Kurt was no longer around, she might well be taking the solo that would have supposedly been for him.

If he hadn't left.

"Kurt?"

He looked up and saw the other three staring at him in concern. He blinked. "What?"

Wes glanced at Blaine, who had been trying to catch Kurt's attention twice and had only now succeeded. As he expected, Blaine looked apprehensive. "Is everything all right?"

"Yeah," Kurt breathed, shoving his phone back into his pocket. "Fine. Why?"

David raised an eyebrow and glanced sideways at Wes. Wes looked back and then looked at Blaine. Blaine kept his eyes on Kurt as he moved forward. "You sure…?" he asked.

"Yeah," Kurt nodded and smiled for good measure.

The problem with having so much in common with Kurt was knowing when he wasn't telling the whole story. But for now, Blaine decided to overlook this and grabbed Kurt's hand with a dazzling smile. "Come on, I'll show you the rooms."

Kurt, blindsided by the grin, could do no more than smile and follow him up the hand-carved staircase. David and Wes looked at each other and just shook their heads with a laugh.

"I seriously wish they'd get a move on," David complained, loosening his tie. "If I hear Blaine pine over him _one more time…_"

"I don't know, the last time Blaine had a crush on someone, it took him two months to actually _say_ something to him…" Wes said doubtfully.

"Let's not talk about that, it pains me to remember what we had to go through," David winced. "I remember when he heard this song and decided that it was perfect for their situation and it was the only thing playing in his room for a week."

"I avoided his room like the plague."

"I actually had to _live_ with that; we shared a room, Wes. WE SHARED A ROOM. I kept earmuffs next to my bed!"

"And yet here we are…again," Wes sighed, waving to the stairs where Blaine and Kurt had disappeared to. David made the same long-suffering sigh. "What we do for the sake of friendship…"

* * *

Kurt was pretty sure that Blaine went this way down the halls, but after the older boy had let go of his hand for a moment to talk to a Warbler in one of the rooms, he found himself lost. Surely he couldn't be _that_ hopeless in navigation, but Windsor's corridors not only looked identical but they looked similar in every floor. Kurt had simply wandered away for a moment, staring at the art that hung on the walls, the furnishings, the fact that the floors were carpeted and that the wood furniture looked as though antique dealers would have heart attacks upon seeing them.

And now he had no idea where he was.

And he had the feeling he was being watched.

_And now I remember that thing I told Coach Sylvester…about feeling like I'm in a horror movie… _Kurt glanced around surreptitiously. He thought he heard movement behind him, but there was nothing there when he looked. He nearly jumped out of his skin when he turned back in front of him and found that a blonde boy was standing there with a Cheshire Cat grin.

"Hello, Alice," he said, ice blue eyes sparkling.

"Pardon?" Kurt stared.

"Welcome to Wonderland," spoke an identical voice behind him. He quickly turned and found the same boy, with the same grin, standing the same way. Or…at least that was what it looked like.

"Okay…" Kurt stared back and forth at the two of them.

The twin behind him made one smooth step with his long leg and was now standing next to his brother. The pair of handsome twins were grinning.

"You look lost, Alice," said one. "Did you fall down the rabbit hole and hit your head?"

"Because if you're lost, we can point you to the right way," said the other.

Kurt decided that even Brittany's hallucinations might have made more sense than this, but he shook it off and just flashed them a rather nervous grin. "I'm Kurt. I'm—"

"New," the twins chorused. "We know."

"And…you are…?"

The twin on the left raised a hand. "I'm Ethan."

"I'm Evan," said the other twin.

And in unison, they both grabbed each of Kurt's hands. "Come on, Alice!" they chorused. "We'll give you orientation!"

Not really having the strength to protest and not really able to hold back the twins dynamos who were currently pulling at his arms with enough force to amputate, Kurt flustered, "Actually I was here with Blaine…?"

"Blaine?"

"We know where he is."

"He's downstairs!"

"He's looking for you!"

"He won't mind if we borrow you for a bit."

And Kurt was unceremoniously swept into a Windsor room for the first time.

The hallways only prepared him partially for what a room in Dalton actually looked like. It was like stepping into the set of the Tudors. It didn't look like much from the outside, but inside was the size of a large apartment, with no walls to separate the common area from the beds. There was a central area where comfortable furniture lay. In the twins' case, there was a lush white couch, a glass coffee table, with a large television screen. The coffee table was occupied by some massive nerf guns that looked out of place amidst thick schoolbooks.

Beyond this living circle were the beds, one on each side of the room, each standing on a wooden dais that served to separate it from the common area. The beds were well-kept antique four posters with sheer drapes. One bed was made, the other was not (but it had school clothes all over it). There was a third dais, directly across the doors, that could serve to hold another bed, but in this case, it just served as an extension of the common area.

"Okay!" said one twin, probably Evan, plopping Kurt down unceremoniously onto the sinfully luxurious white couch in the common area. "This is what a Windsor room looks like."

"Actually, it's what every dorm room looks like," said the one who was probably Ethan.

"We've seen the others."

"But Windsor is still the best."

"Of course."

"Um…I don't mean to be rude, but could you guys possibly talk in one straight go one at a time?" Kurt asked, confused.

Ethan laughed. "Blaine says it helps if you just think of us as just one person. If you're new, that is. You'll get used to it."

"Thank you," Kurt grinned.

Evan continued, "Here at Windsor, there are two to three people in a room. Unless you're special, you can request for your own room. Like if you're a captain of a sports team. Or if you've always broken the ninety-eighth percentile in class."

"But that's difficult," Ethan said blandly. "Because everyone gets amazing grades here."

"Everyone."

"Yep."

"Excellent is average here."

Kurt wavered slightly, trying to take all this information in. While he looked for "challenging" back at McKinley, this wasn't quite what he expected. "Everyone. All right…"

"There are three dorms—Windsor, Hanover and Stuart, and we like Stuart the least." The other twin made a thumbs-down gesture and a grimace. "Why?" he continued before Kurt could even open his mouth to ask, "Because they're a bunch of brownnosing ass-kissers and that's basically all you need to know."

"And you'll protect your fellow Windsor boys from them to the death, and we'll do the same for you," nodded the other twin sagely. "Windsor is, without a doubt, the best house—don't mind Hanover, they're harmless—but Stuart is looking to trip us up with every step. Do not trust them."

After that statement, the manic gleam in their eyes died away to Kurt's relief.

"Curfew is ten on weekdays, eleven on weekends," said Ethan. "Until then, you can run around doing basically whatever you like. But if you don't make it, you'll get locked out."

"Which is why it's useful to have us as friends," grinned Evan. "Because we can get you back inside and Howard would be none the wiser!"

Ethan looked proud. "We can unlock any door, any window, on campus. Both literally and figuratively."

"This must be your thing," Kurt raised an eyebrow, wondering if these two were for real. They seemed like the type who might be pulling his leg. "They said that everyone in here has something off about them."

"Well…not _only_," Evan smiled sweetly and then offered Kurt a Nerf gun.

Kurt considered, then smiled and took the gun.

"Good choice," grinned Ethan. And he pulled out his own nerf gun and shot Kurt right at the forehead.

* * *

When Blaine walked out from the twins' room not more than ten minutes later, he was livid for a few reasons: one, after yelling at the twins for grabbing Kurt without letting the rest of them know where he was, two, for getting Kurt mixed up in their twice-a-week Nerf battle, and three, for assaulting him with said Nerf guns the moment he walked in. Leaving the new boy alone in Windsor House was never a good idea, but at least Kurt was breathing when he pulled him out of the nerf war going on. Barely, anyway.

Kurt was laughing so hard that he was stumbling in his walk, Blaine's hand clutching his firmly, and he looked the older Warbler and choked, "What are those guys _on_?"

"We wish we knew," Blaine smiled, amused nevertheless at how Kurt seemed to have been enjoying himself. He leaned a bit closer to inspect Kurt's scarlet forehead. "They got you there, all right."

"It was worth it watching Evan manage a perfect matrix backbend after my first clear shot at him," Kurt swallowed, smile turning rather awkward at Blaine's close proximity. Blaine, however, looked intrigued. "How do you know that one was Evan?"

"I don't," Kurt admitted. "He just…felt like Evan?"

"That was actually Ethan," Blaine grinned. "He's the springier one."

"Oh so they do have differences," Kurt laughed.

"Very few." Blaine stopped at one door and opened it. "This is my room."

Kurt looked inside and saw that though it may have been completely alike the twins' in architecture, it was all very…Blaine. The furnishings in the middle common were different, made of warm comfortable colors and material. There was a thick rug under the middle common, and only one bed looked in use. Since it was surrounded by a study area heaped with books, pens, papers and a sleek laptop and had a corkboard full of Warblers' photos, Kurt assumed that this bed was Blaine's. The other dais had a bed, but it was pushed to the side and the space left was full of pillows large enough to sit in. The middle dais, to Kurt's utter fascination, had been set up as a small theatre with a cinema screen.

"How…did you even get that screen in?" Kurt gaped.

"It's actually pretty old—it used to be in one of the AV rooms, but when they upgraded, I asked if I could have it."

"And they let you?"

Blaine grinned. "It's not for me entirely. A lot of the Warblers come here to hang out. So we pulled strings."

McKinley's glee club couldn't even afford transportation, let alone a whole cinema screen, Kurt marveled. He walked around the room, looking at Blaine's collection of theatre posters and stopped at the corkboard full of photos of Warblers and others who weren't in the Dalton uniform. It suddenly struck him that the room was very quiet. And then he looked up. "Wait—you room alone?"

"If a person had as much as ten other boys crashing in at every given hour to harmonize, make noise, and generally cause confusion, roommates don't last long."

Kurt smiled and sat down onto the couch with a sigh, looking around. "So you're here, by yourself…" He looked around the largeness of it all.

"Helps me appreciate the quiet time better, when the boys don't come by," Blaine admitted, sitting next to him.

A silence fell that was neither awkward nor tense. They both looked tired without really acknowledging what it was they were tired about. Both seemed lost in thought for a moment. Blaine roused himself first, and saw Kurt staring into his phone. There was nothing on the screen.

Blaine nudged him gently. "Hey."

For an instant, Kurt glanced to him in response before he leaned against his shoulder, not even trying to smile this time. Blaine looked at him, a bit surprised, but welcomed it while it lasted. He put strong arm around Kurt's shoulders, not sure if he was trying to soak up warmth or impart it to the other boy. In spite of himself, Kurt turned his face to Blaine's shoulder and let out a shuddering sigh, and Blaine clasped his free hand in his.

"…it gets easier," he finally murmured.

A pause. "…when…?" Kurt whispered without moving, clutching a bit tighter onto his hand.

"When indeed…" Blaine sighed. He glanced at Kurt again. He was always so close to those enticing lips that had first mesmerized him that afternoon at McKinley's damp staircase. And just like then, he turned away from them before he did something regrettable.

He wanted to tell him everything so badly, but though he thought about it day after day, there simply weren't any words at present to explain what he felt about him. Even he himself couldn't properly understand how one boy managed, in under a day, to win over his attentions without even knowing he did.

And with everything that had gone on, he would simply hurt Kurt right now; he was sure that Kurt did not need this new complication. In his current state, any move from him would be seen as taking advantage of him.

And he would never forgive himself if he just managed to add himself to Kurt's problems right now.

_For now…I'll protect you. From everything. …even from me._

Blaine smiled down at Kurt. "…when you trust yourself to stand again."

Kurt looked up. Blaine's smile widened. "You must be an amazing person, Kurt, to have withstood all that for so long." He turned away, eyes wandering to the mass of photographs on his corkboard. "…I didn't last that long."

"Blaine…?" Kurt sat up, looking at him, brow furrowing in concern.

But Blaine just looked at him with that same warm expression. "You're really so much stronger than you think you are. Kurt…courage can also mean believing in yourself to rise past everything and become who you want to be again, at a time when everything seems to have fallen apart."

He took Kurt's hands. "This time, though…I'm with you all the way. Like I told you before, I've got your back. All right?"

Kurt looked down at their hands, and back up at Blaine's smile. He felt his eyes sting as they filled with tears but his pride refused to let them fall, blinking them away. He laughed through the haze in his eyes and nodded. "Yeah. All right."

Blaine laughed and grinned at him. "Hang in there."

Kurt just laughed, wiped his eyes and nodded.

* * *

"It's like something out of a Julia Roberts movie," Wes grumbled, rolling his eyes good-naturedly from the hall, having seen the whole scene play out.

David grinned at him then looked back at the two in Blaine's room. "I'm going to have to agree. But they're almost disgustingly adorable."

"Blaine actually looks _happy_," Evan smirked, and Ethan added, "which is better than watching him stare at his Blackberry waiting for a text from his pretty pretty nymph."

"Is it officially _his_ pretty pretty nymph yet?" David asked.

"Not yet. If the way they're being so fidgety around each other is any indication. And you know as well as I do that if Blaine were ever officially "with" anyone, well…" Wes rolled his eyes. "He'd be struggling a lot less." He gestured to the two chatting amicably inside the room.

"Can he sing?" asked Ethan curiously. "You did mention he was from McKinley's glee club."

"The only McKinley tape we've got has that small girl with the major pipes up front," Evan commented. "And Blaine's little nymph was chorus vocal."

"Well Blaine insists he can sing—I don't know how he knows when even Kurt says that he's never heard him," David shrugged.

"We'll find out soon enough," Wes nodded, crossing his arms over his chest, keeping his eyes on the couple on the couch. "He'll have to sing for Harvey and Medel. They'll decide."

"He'll be fine," chorused the twins.

"And how would you know?" David raised an eyebrow.

Evan—or was it Ethan?—smiled as he studied Kurt's bright smile as he looked up at Blaine. "Just a feeling."

* * *

_Coming up next episode: Moving pains as the boys attempt to make Kurt feel at home. Dalton has no bullying, But it has all its own rivalries; and Windsor, Stuart and Hanover are about to get their first major event. Kurt has his own problems as he has to impress the choir instructor Greg Harvey and the musician Sylvia Medel. Between studies, Warblers, and trying not to get hopelessly distracted by Blaine, Kurt starts to learn to juggle life in Dalton._


	2. Warbling

_Hello, I'm C Coulter, your writer for this fic._

_I'd like to thank everyone for their wonderful words of kindness from the reviews-I can honestly say that I didn't expect quite so favorable a response from something out of flight of fancy, and I am grateful to each and every one of you. To the person who asked if I posted this to the LJ communities, no, I have not; I don't have quite the confidence needed to post it someplace other than here-and I have seen quite a few wonderful ones there, and am rather intimidated._

_Nevertheless, as usual, I do hope everyone will enjoy the second episode. A word: I have attempted to follow by what I have mentioned at the final part of the first chapter, but it seemed that it went to a somewhat different direction from what I originally intended. All the same, I found it satisfying, as I always like Kurt's happiness the most, and it is something I felt he might have to go through to fully enjoy happiness._

_I hope you like it, thank you. :)_

(As always, **I do not own the marvelousness that is Glee**.)

* * *

**Dalton**

* * *

**Episode 2: Warbling**

_I'm Kurt. And this is Dalton Academy._

_As you may know, I just transferred here in order to avoid some…difficulties in McKinley. Don't get me wrong: I love the glee club back at McKinley—but the truth is, push came to shove and now…here I am. I'm officially a student at Dalton._

_Blaine, David, and Wes are helping me get used to things here, but after meeting the twins and seeing Windsor, I'm starting to get a little bit…concerned. And from the looks of things, this was only the beginning._

_I just hope I know what I just got myself into._

* * *

Blaine, looking down at the book he had just pulled out from the stacks, turned a corner of the shelves and collided with a figure that was waiting for the opportunity to catch him in private. He looked up, startled, and then immediately rolled his eyes. "Dwight! I told you a million times to stop lurking in the shelves."

"Blaine," hissed the slightly taller, skinnier male, so pale that he was almost translucent, the only color on him being his lips (red from perpetual nervous biting), and the crop of black hair contrasting powerfully against his pallor. He was hugging a large tome with a pentagram on the cover. "I need to talk to you!"

"I thought you weren't allowed into the library anymore," Blaine blinked. He imagined that someone throwing rock salt onto the shelves was one incident that library staff was not going to overlook.

Dwight waved it away, irritated. "Whatever, I need my research material. I am _this_ close to exorcising the church bell tower once and for all."

"Look, Dwight, intriguing as all this is…" Blaine rolled his eyes and glanced to the librarian who was starting to wonder where the noise was coming from, "…I need to get back to my geography assignment."

"I need to talk to you about that new kid."

"Kurt?" Blaine glanced at him as he headed back to the desk he had claimed. "What about him?"

"He's moving into Windsor, right? Shouldn't you consult me first before all this? What if there's something malignant in one of the empty rooms? Do you remember that time Reed went into one of the closets in an empty room and he came running out screaming?"

"One, Reed has the tendency to go extremely over the top with everything as he is terribly danger-prone," Blaine responded calmly, noting in great detail the tropical areas as detailed in the book. "And two, Reed didn't go into a closet—he went into one of the bathrooms to get some cleaning supplies left there, tripped and the shower curtain collapsed on him. Of course he would run out screaming."

"I'm still convinced it was a poltergeist," Dwight grumbled.

"This still doesn't explain to me _anything_ you wanted to talk about with regards to Kurt."

"He's strange…" Dwight finally said. "It's worrisome. It could be dangerous. Almost suspicious."

Blaine graced him with his attention now, though he raised an eyebrow. "Really. How? Did you see him emitting a bright magenta aura?"

Dwight fidgeted, scratching at the corner of his book with his long fingernails. "…no, he seemed terribly unhappy."

Blaine finally lowered the book at this. "What do you mean unhappy?"

"Fine, not completely 'unhappy'. More…lost." Dwight took a pause, then looked up with big dark eyes filled with horror. "He's not possessed is, he? We don't need any more spirits wandering the halls!"

Blaine waved the accusation away almost irritably, summoning superhuman patience. "What makes you say he's lost?"

"I was in his Ecology and Environmental Studies class. He kept staring at floating dust specks. He wasn't paying attention to Mr. Newman. And only the truly suicidal do not pay attention to Mr. Newman when he's outlining the exam coverage!"

"Boys!"

The two jumped as the librarian materialized at their elbows, frowning disapprovingly. "If you _must_ carry on this way, you'll have to step outside and stop disturbing other students!"

Blaine decided not to tell her that the only other two students in the library were solidly asleep in their cubicles. "Sorry, Mrs. Abernathy."

"And Mr. Houston, what are you doing in here? And with that book again!"

Eyes wide, Dwight fled instantly, bounding away like an antelope, his open blazer flapping behind him like a cape and still taking the book with him. Blaine picked up his own bag and left at a less hasty pace, pulling out his Blackberry. An emergency mini-meeting was needed.

* * *

"Blaine, he's been here _one day_," David said, almost exasperated over the tall black coffee that he was attempting to down. "It's natural for him to be…confused."

"And after getting assaulted by these two earlier…" Wes jerked his thumb to the twins, who were sitting at the same table. They pretended as though Wes had mortally wounded them with the accusation. "And why, oh _why_ would you listen to Dwight? This is the guy who carries a spritz bottle full of holy water _everywhere_ he goes "just in case"."

"Dwight is observant, if anything," Blaine protested. "Because until he's actually boarded, he _can_ repeal the transfer, so I don't want Kurt second-guessing his move here within twenty-four hours of doing so."

"He'll be doing that all day _and_ tomorrow, until he finally gets used to it," said David sensibly, yanking out some tissues and wiping down his part of the table. "When _you_ transferred here—"

"Shh!" coloring a deep crimson, Blaine all but threw his coffee at him, not wanting the subject broached again.

Wes swatted him off David. "I considered it a defining moment when we finally got you to start talking. Only to find out that you had a die-hard crush on Tom Felton." He sighed deeply, long-sufferingly, like a reminiscing war veteran. "It was like we had opened a _dam_ and we couldn't get it to stop…"

The twins were choking on their frappes by now, laughing too hard to be coherent, having to hold onto each other to remain upright. Blaine glared with all the force he could muster in his current riot of emotions (anxiety, embarrassment, and the utter urge to decapitate one of his so-called "friends") and said, "We've _got_ to do something to at least make him feel better."

"How about we have a few games…?" Wes asked, humoring their clearly enamored lead singer. "We can break out RockBand again."

"We're not allowed to play RockBand in the common room anymore," David reminded him. "The incident with the mop and Mr. Tamerlane's pet duck?" Everyone on the table winced.

"How about paintball?" chorused the twins.

"No. Also no longer allowed indoors. Charlie isn't even out of the hospital yet."

"Bake him a cake?"

"The kitchen ceiling is still scorched."

"There's got to be _something_ we can do that won't do property damage," Blaine grumbled in one of those moments where he wished he lived in a quieter dormitory.

Everyone was silent for a moment, either thinking of what they could do for Kurt, or what they could do at all seeing as how their pastimes were being banned one by one. This was when the twins sat up, as though getting twin lightbulbs on their heads. They blinked at each other and nodded. They both looked at Blaine.

"We have an idea," said Ethan.

Evan nodded. "But we'll have to get started now, if we want to make it in time later for the Warbler meeting."

* * *

Kurt had earlier received a message from one of the student runners that a Mr. Greg Harvey and a Ms. Sylvia Medel were requesting him to come to the second music room early so that they would be able to formally meet him for the first time. His throat going dry, he recognized their names as the choir director and music teacher in charge of the Warblers, and that the second music room was also semi-officially "the Warblers' Hall".

As if that was not enough, a message had appeared on his iPhone during his last period:

_Kurt, something important came up in the dorms. But I'll definitely be at Warblers' meeting with you. Meet you there. –Blaine_

This left Kurt standing outside the hall feeling rather anxious and staring at his phone as though he willed it to somehow convey his need for Blaine to come as soon as humanly possible. He had never been one to be anxious or nervous about such a thing (he was quite sure that he could easily out-diva these boys if he had to) but he had seen the Warblers perform and if anything, they looked like a solid unit that worked seamlessly with one another.

And with Sectionals under a week, if he didn't manage to prove himself capable of adapting to their style, they might not think he was up to speed at all. Their style was definitely different from New Directions'.

And if he couldn't at least _be_ in a glee club…

He looked around these large, imposing halls and sighed. He may have felt out of place back in Lima, but he also had yet to fit in here. Not for the first time, he felt that painful twinge of doubt, and then guilt. Everybody believed in him, and yet here he was, moping. Ridiculous. This was completely un-fabulous.

His phone started to vibrate in his pocket, and he pulled it out to find that it was a call.

From Rachel Berry.

Well this was a…surprise.

Kurt looked around and ducked to a nearby hallway near the open arches that overlooked the gardens. He answered the call, lifting it to his ear, not really sure what to expect.

"Rachel?"

"A-hem," Rachel cleared her throat, seeming to come from a slight distance. When she spoke, she wasn't speaking to him. He heard her say, "All right, he's on! All of you, look alive! Come on!"

That same imperious tone as always, and he heard, in the background, sound of minor grumbling—"He can't actually _see_ us, Rachel…"—from the boys, and giggling from the girls, and the sound of shuffling feet. Kurt's heart jumped to his throat. The call was on speaker phone in Rachel's end and the whole McKinley glee club was there.

"Kurt!" Rachel called from wherever she was standing, sounding immensely pleased with herself. "I—" Finn coughed at this, and Rachel made an impatient noise, "I mean—_we_ have something for you."

"What?" Kurt almost laughed, unable to believe his ears.

"We hope you like it!" Tina said happily, and he could hear her smile from her voice.

He could hardly believe this. "What are you guys—?"

The music started, slow and gentle. Kurt listened, gripping the phone to his ear. The flash of recognition came when he recognized the strains, and the glee club began to sing.

_I've heard it said_

_That people come into our lives for a reason_

_Bringing something we must learn_

_And we are led to those who help us most to grow_

_If we let them, and we help them in return_

_Well, I don't know if I believe that's true_

_But I know I'm who I am today_

_Because I knew you…_

They were singing a modified group rendition of Wicked's "For Good". He could hear Rachel's powerful voice soaring above the others, taking fine control, Mercedes' ardent vocals, Tina's pure tones, Quinn, Santana and Brittany lifting up their voices. Each girl had a turn at a solo line, and to his surprise the boys supplied the backing vocals with Artie's notes holding clear distinction.

_Like a comet pulled from orbit as it passes a sun_

_Like a stream that meets a boulder halfway through the wood_

_Who can say if I've been changed for the better?_

_But because I knew you_

_I have been changed for good…_

Just like that, Kurt could already find himself standing by the piano in the McKinley club room, watching as his friends stood in front of him, singing to him. He could practically see them smiling up affectionately at him, their voices enveloping him with a single clear message:

No matter what, after all they had been through, Kurt and the Glee club had changed each other for good, and with hands held tight, they will be together, helping each other, in one way or another. Leaving did not mean forgetting, and it did not mean real parting. They all still had each other.

_And just to clear the air, I ask forgiveness_

_For the things I've done you blame me for_

_But then, I guess we know there's blame to share_

_And none of it seems to matter anymore…_

Kurt didn't know when he started crying, but tears were flowing down his cheeks so much that he struggled to wipe them away. Assaulted by one hundred memories of each moment in Glee club—through the frustrating days, through the bright; from being utterly ignored in the middle of the courtyard, to the applause onstage—Kurt clutched onto their support at this moment.

_Who can say if I've been changed for the better?_

_I do believe I have been changed for the better_

_And because I knew you..._

_Because I knew you..._

_Because I knew you..._

_I have been changed for good..._

When the song faded away, with Rachel and Mercedes holding the last notes to fade and the strains quieting, Kurt could barely speak, feeling as though his heart was liable to explode.

"Uh, you still there, Kurt?" he heard Sam ask after nearly a minute of silence from his end.

Kurt lifted his head, stifling a sob that he was sure they could hear (because the girls made soft exclamations of dismay), and finally managed to laugh to assuage their concerns. "You guys—what was _that_? You actually—you actually got Mr. Schue to bypass Journey?"

There was delighted laughter at the other end, sounding relieved. "We just put this together today…sort of behind Mr. Schue's back since he wants all the focus on Sectionals," Finn admitted, sounding sheepish. "Kind of a sudden thing."

"Whose idea was this?" Kurt demanded, grinning from ear to ear. "Mercedes?"

"Actually it was all of us," Mercedes said, laughing a bit. "We wanted to do something for you, but Rachel wanted to use Wicked—because you'd never accept anything otherwise. We just wanted to let you know that we're all here for you, Kurt." A pause. "Oh, and don't you _dare_ hold back on Sectionals! I don't want any of your punches pulled—bring it."

"Oh it's on," Kurt preened a bit, smirking. "Once I join them officially, you all can expect to be steamrollered. Please, you'll be crying all the way back to McKinley."

There was a scoff from the female soloist, but she sounded amused. There was a pause, then Puck said in a low, almost guilty tone, "Hey Kurt. If any of those boys give you problems, you tell me, all right? I don't know about bullying policies or whatever, but they don't mess with you, you got that?"

"Yeah," Sam agreed, as Mike and Artie chimed in similarly.

"Don't you try and back out now," Rachel declared threateningly. "Don't you dare. We're expecting to see you on the other side. And…" her tone softened just slightly, "We're proud of you. I mean, we'll crush you for sure, of course, but we're proud of you."

Kurt smiled. He remembered when Rachel asked him to duet with her, and felt that this was so much like that time, and it was their way of telling each other it was going to be okay. He figured that if Rachel Berry of all people would put this together, he had better not let any of them down.

"I wish I could sing you guys something back," Kurt admitted. "Right now I can barely think of one."

"Come on, sure you can!" exclaimed Tina. "Something! Anything!"

"Like Happy Birthday…" Brittany said softly. He heard her murmur to someone, possibly Santana, "We're doing this because Kurt's birthday, right…?" And just received a sigh in answer.

"Uh, something you really really wanted to sing before that you couldn't," Artie suggested, possibly after a sidelong glance at his girlfriend.

But Kurt could only think of one. He looked around, found he was still alone, and smiled. "Fine."

And he did.

* * *

"…and Blaine says that he would make a fine addition," said a tall, beautiful woman in a well cut black blouse contrasted by a long flowing skirt that flipped around her ankles as she walked, her footfalls echoing in the hall. She was carrying a sheaf of sheet music, and her platinum blonde hair was cut in a shapely short bob, and she wore silver-rimmed glasses. "McKinley _did_ win Sectionals last year and went on to Regionals."

"Hm…" the taller man with her, wearing a trim three-piece suit and wearing glasses rimmed in black, looked down at the student file in his hands. He scratched his head for a moment, pen resting between his fingers, and said, "He certainly _seems_ promising enough…if he's from another club, then his repertoire should be expansive, but we'll see. Do the other boys have any opinions, Sylvia?"

Sylvia Medel shrugged gently. "They all seem quite curious. They don't know very much about him. I understand from Todd that he's to board in Windsor, though."

"Ah…" Gregory Harvey now smiled both knowingly and almost affectionately, his brown eyes warm with understanding. "Another Windsor boy. If we draft this boy, the Stuarts might start to protest favoritism." And he stopped abruptly, looking up.

"They won't if he earns it rightfully," Sylvia said sensibly, looking down at her sheet music. "I honestly have no clue as to what this boy's range might be, that tape from last year is just about—What? Greg, what is it?" She stared as the older man started urgently shushing her.

"Shh…" Greg stood at the corner of the wall where two halls met, listening intently.

The hall where they stood was where the Warblers' Hall was and for a moment, Sylvia thought that someone was playing music inside. But as she listened, she realized that the song she was hearing was pouring out from the adjoining hall where the open arches were.

And it was a voice the likes of which they had never heard in Dalton halls before.

_It won't be easy, you'll think it strange_

_When I try to explain how I feel_

_That I still need your love after all that I've done..._

The two music teachers looked at each other in surprise and peered into the next hall. A boy of slight build stood there, holding a phone to his ear, wet blue eyes staring into the open sunlight of the garden, and that voice—that impossible voice!—was coming from him.

He was singing a song from Evita into the phone.

_I had to let it happen, I had to change…_

_Couldn't stay all my life down at heel…_

_Looking out of the window, staying out of the sun…_

Sylvia stood staring, fascinated, just vaguely wondering if it was one of those apparitions that Dwight Houston kept going on about. Greg looked down at the student file in his hands, then back up at the boy. Immediately, he began to smile and he stepped out into the hall.

* * *

"Are you Kurt Hummel?"

Kurt nearly jumped a foot into the air, abruptly stopping mid-line, turning to deep brown voice that suddenly called him by name. A male teacher stood there, smiling kindly in an unimposing way.

"_Kurt?_" asked Mercedes over the phone, worried. "_What happened?_"

Flustered, Kurt stammered to the teacher, "Yes—I'm—I'm Kurt Hummel."

"_Kurt, who are you talking to?" _demanded Rachel's voice out of the phone.

The teacher held up his hands as though to show Kurt that it was okay. His every movement was quiet and calculated. He said clearly, for the benefit of those overhearing, "Mr. Hummel, I think that song would go quite a lot better with some musical accompaniment… Won't you join me and Ms. Medel into the Hall, so she may play it on the piano for you?" He gestured to the phone. "I'm sure whoever's listening to you would enjoy it better that way."

Kurt stared, stunned by this completely unexpected reaction. He looked to the phone and back to the smiling teacher. Standing a little further away was a lady in elegant dress—that skirt had to be a Valentino, said the fashionable part of his brain—and she was smiling as well.

"_Say yes, Kurt,_" Brittany supplied helpfully, probably without being aware of what was happening.

Kurt swallowed and nodded. "S-Sure. Guys…give me a sec…"

* * *

"Oh man, I can't wait to see the look on his face when he sees!" exclaimed David as he and the other Warblers came running down the corridor, headed to the Hall. "That's got to be a record, even for us."

"There's nothing Windsor boys can't do if it's for one of their own," grinned Wes, jogging next to him. "Well, even a one of their own to-be. But credit where credit is due…" he looked to the twins. "I had no idea we even had all that stuff in Windsor.

"Wasn't exactly ours…" grinned Ethan. "It may have been from last year…"

"Or before that…" Evan considered.

"Or it could all be ancient," Ethan shrugged.

"But they say there's charm in antiques!"

"Definitely."

"If Dwight hears that you both took down things from the "haunted" attic storeroom, he will maim and exorcise you two," Blaine replied, "and I don't want to imagine in what order he would do so."

"Hey look." David pulled the other boys to a stop, pointing down the hall. "What's that all about?

There was a small crowd of Warblers around the doorway of their Hall, not actually entering. They were all crushed to the slightly opened doors, listening intently and not making a sound. They barely noticed as the other Warblers approached.

"What's going on?" Blaine asked as they arrived, and in unison, all the boys listening hissed or held out their hands to him in the universal "_Shut up!_" gesture, listening.

"What is it?" Wes whispered, looking at them incredulously.

"Shh…" said Evan, looking up.

"Listen…" Ethan, being rather tall, was able to peer up higher from the door.

_So I chose freedom…_

_Running around, trying everything new_

_But nothing impressed me at all…_

_I never expected it to…_

Music was coming from the Hall, the sound of musical accompaniment to a song that they would never have imagined being played in an all-boy's choir room, as no one would have been able to sing it. And yet as the music swelled, a voice rose from within the room, filling it with soaring notes and seeping out the door, causing them to stand transfixed.

_Don't cry for me Argentina…_

_The truth is I never left you_

_All through my wild days, my mad existence_

_I kept my promise…_

_Don't keep your distance…_

"Who the _hell_ is that?" hissed Wes, staring.

"We don't know," muttered one of the other Warblers. "When we got here, Harvey and Medel were already in there with him."

"That's a guy in there?" David said, aghast.

"Mm…" Evan, on tiptoes, agreed from where he was peering into the room. "Yeah, I can see the jacket."

_They are illusions…_

_They are not the solutions they promised to be_

_The answer was here all the time_

_I love you and hope you love me_

_Don't cry for me Argentina…_

As the music and the voice swelled further, Blaine looked up in sheer realization, eyes widening and backing from the door like he was shot. "Whoa, I think—is that—?"

"Guys! Guys!" hissed Ethan, jumping up and down on his toes, wild with excitement. "It's Alice! It's Alice singing in there!"

"I thought you said it was a guy? Who the heck is Alice?" demanded another Warbler.

"No—not Alice," snapped Blaine, pushing his way through the others to get a better look. "Kurt! That's Kurt Hummel singing in there."

"No way! The new kid?" the boys crowded further onto the door, their weight pushing the door open just a little bit more.

Greg, from where he was standing by the side of the door from the inside, was most amusedly watching the door creak further open as more boys piled on their weight. As David's head popped into the room, he leaned down to the crowd and said calmly, "Would you boys like to come inside?"

The Warblers looked up in surprise at their choir director, who was smiling broadly at them. Embarrassed, the group straightened up, brushing down their jackets and feigning composure. They carefully opened the door, coming in and jostling each other for room.

From the far end of the room, Sylvia was playing the piano, barely able to stop the grin on her face as Kurt, his back turned to the boys, continued to sing. He appeared happy to receive her obvious unspoken praise, and was singing with everything he had, oblivious of the watching eyes. Lying on top of the piano was his iPhone.

As the song slowly faded out, a burst of happy applause came from the iPhone.

"_You go, Kurt! Yeah! That's our boy!_" hooting and whistles accompanied the clapping from the McKinley club.

Kurt laughed in relief and pure joy, the likes of which he had not felt in a long time. It felt as though a huge weight had been lifted off his chest. He scooped up his phone and smiled to it. "…thanks, guys. And don't worry. I can take it from here."

A mix of happiness and confusion now came from the phone. "_You were great! It was—geez, you guys, Schuester's coming!—crap!—quick, put it away!—Kurt, you were great!—Puck, move come on!—Hurry up!—We love you, Kurt! See you at Sectionals! Bye! Bye, Kurt!_"

"Bye," Kurt laughed, hanging up. As he did, he heaved a great sigh of relief.

And the entire Warblers' Hall erupted into applause and cheering.

Kurt whirled around with wide eyes to see the Warblers grinning and clapping at him. "Yes!" David yelled, grinning. "That was great!"

"I cannot _believe_ that was you!" Wes said, clapping while shaking his head in disbelief. The twins were clapping as well, the latecomer Warblers who had only managed to catch the last of the song applauding behind them.

Kurt looked at them, shocked and somehow delighted. His eyes locked on Blaine's warm ones, and he smiled as Blaine grinned at him, clapping with a knowing look, as though he knew all along that Kurt would win the Warblers over.

Over the din, Greg raised his voice to call for attention. "All right, all right now…" he was grinning at his boys. "Settle down, settle down…"

"I must say, that was quite refreshing," said Sylvia, shaking Kurt's hand with a smile as the boys now came further into the room, taking their places on the armchairs and divans. "There haven't been a lot of countertenors in Warbler history, Mr. Hummel—the last one was from twenty years ago. I was just about to stop hoping to be able to come across one, much less one with a voice like yours."

"W-wait…" Kurt looked from her to Greg and back again, "Do you mean…this was my audition?"

"We would _gladly_ like to hear another one, if it wasn't yet," quipped a boy from the back, earning laughing agreement from majority of the group.

"Now, I don't think there's need for that…" Greg smiled over at the group as he brought Kurt, looking at the group in amazement, next to him. "Clearly you've heard Kurt's capabilities…"

"Boy, did we!" said another boy—hoots followed, checked by the director's warning hand. Greg continued, "Settle, settle. This is serious now." But his eyes sparkled. "We have to come to a vote. All those in favor of having Kurt join us, raise a hand."

A forest of hands—the twins held up both of theirs—went up. Sylvia laughed. "And as decreed by the group…" she looked at Kurt and smiled. "Welcome to the Warblers, Mr. Hummel."

And in a single cheering wave, the boys ran from their seats and up to Kurt, giving him heavy pats and cuffs on the shoulders before draping all of their jackets on top of him, as was unofficial tradition. Kurt, laughing harder than he'd done in weeks, could barely keep standing, both at the weight of their attentions and the clothing being heaped on him.

A hand clasped his, and he looked up to meet Blaine's eyes again.

"Feeling better?" Blaine asked him with a smirk.

Kurt grinned. "You have no idea."

* * *

"It's a shame you can't sing a solo for Sectionals," said David, looking deeply disappointed as the boys trooped back to Windsor house. "But when Harvey sets down the song, it's down. It's etched in stone."

"I don't mind, really," Kurt sighed, smiling as he clutched onto his bag strap. "I mean, Sectionals is in a week. It'll be a miracle if I learn how to do whatever military drill it is you do to have you all synchronizing perfectly with each other like that."

"Yes, fear Harvey," Wes grinned.

"He seemed nice though," Kurt said.

"Sure he is," Wes agreed. "But he's led show choirs to Nationals for years straight for a reason. Dalton booked him for us to launch us to Nationals too."

"But he'll definitely be thinking about giving you some spotlight," said Blaine, nodding. "I mean…we've never had a countertenor before this. Possibilities are endless."

"Sure Blaine," snickered Wes. "For you they are. If Kurt will stand out, you'll be the one who'll most likely end up singing with him." He shot him an added, _and you like that idea…_ look.

Blaine shot him back an _I hate you_ look before looking at Kurt with a grin that promised mischief. "Say Kurt—you're definitely boarding at Windsor, right?"

Puzzled, Kurt nodded. "Yeah. That's what I told Howard, and I will. And besides, all of you are there—_someone_ needs to keep an eye on all of you." Then he sighed. "Getting my entire wardrobe to Dalton is going to be like Atlas carrying the globe. I suppose I could just take a few things…but I can't stand the thought of leaving dad, Carole and Finn with them. They probably don't even know which ones are meant to be dry-cleaned."

Blaine looked as though he sympathized. But then he looked up and said, "Hey before you go for the day, come by Windsor for a bit. Pick out which room you want."

"Now?" Kurt blinked.

"No time like the present," David grinned and grabbed Kurt's hand before Blaine had the chance to. He pulled the newest Warbler towards Windsor, running, leaving a slightly scandalized Blaine to follow after them, Wes snickering as he did the same.

"What's this?" David laughed as he picked up an envelope on the floor. He looked at it and tutted. "Ugh. That time of year again." He passed it to Blaine who just sighed and scratched his head.

"What is?" asked Kurt.

"Ah—the Fall Music Festival," Blaine explained. "School event, like a talent show. Like most school events, the houses will be sending out their best. If a day student wins it, the day students get extra holidays or stuff. If a boarder wins, him and his entire house get special privileges, like extra curfew hours and trips outside campus or whatever."

"Oh…" Kurt blinked, looking at the envelope. "You all don't look happy."

"It's a Music Festival. All of the houses will be sending out their Warblers who stay there," David grimaced. "Add working that out to actual Warblers practice where the whole group performs for the whole school—it's a lot of work. That's _while_ we're expecting exams and deadlines before Christmas break."

"I guess being rockstars have downsides," Kurt flashed Blaine a catty grin. It earned him a playful punch to the arm and Blaine's arm around his shoulders again as they headed to the common room.

He barely had time to enjoy this as the moment they stepped in, the twins materialized in front of them, smiling their Cheshire grins once again.

"Hello, Alice!" they chirruped. "Congratulations on becoming a Warbler."

"Uh, thanks?" Kurt looked at them suspiciously—he did not trust those smiles, and the fact that Blaine, Wes and David had the same ones.

"We have something to show you," said Evan.

"And we're almost absolutely positive you'll like it," said Ethan.

"I'm unarmed with nerf guns, just so you know," Kurt supplied.

The twins laughed. "No, no," said Evan. "Nothing like that. Come with us."

"Come on," Wes clipped Kurt's elbow and followed the pair of blonds upstairs. With Blaine's reassuring squeeze on his shoulder, Kurt followed suit.

The dormitories looked surprisingly empty for this time of day, Kurt wondered as he followed them up the stairs to the hallways where Blaine's room was. In fact, they went right up to the room across Blaine's and stopped at the door. "Here we are!"

"I get this room?" Kurt asked, looking at them.

"You put it across mine?" Blaine turned to his friends, seemingly baffled now. When they had made plans, he left them at it as he went to fetch some things needed—he did not take part in choosing the room.

"Call it a bargain," David whispered to him. "We'll be eternally grateful if you stopped trying to describe how amazing his eyes are, thanks."

Blaine bit back his retort and turned back to the twins who now looked at Kurt with affectionate smiles. "Welcome to Windsor."

They threw open the doors.

Kurt walked in and stared, gaping in shock. The old world finery of Windsor was even more amplified now by the rich antique furnishings of the room. Kurt's new room had been decked out in both old and contemporary style: the gilded frames held blown up posters of musicals and not canvas paintings, and the jet black sound system that was in the room was clearly modern, but all the furnishings were chosen in such a way that they did not disrupt the harmony of the old room.

Even the carpet and the bed were made of fine materials, and Kurt had never in his life lain on sheets and pillowcases that had this kind of thread count. The cherrywood study desk was already fitted with a charming lamp, next to which were brand new glossy fashion magazines stacked nearly as tall as the lamp. The shelves held Kurt's schoolbooks.

Ethan followed Kurt's gaze and said, "Sure we had to break into your in-school locker to take them, but we promise we didn't touch anything else."

"You're ruining the mood," his twin admonished. He looked at Kurt. "We also didn't notice that you have a photo of Blaine and a mini-collage of "courage". Is it some kind of code, by the way?"

Kurt dropped his face into his hand, wanting the polished wood floor to open up and eat him. Blaine just smiled and said, "Come on, everyone has photos of their friends on their lockers. I have a whole bunch of them on the board next to my desk."

"How come you never make mini-collages for us, Blaine?" David pretended to whine. He looked at Kurt. "Will you make one for us too, Kurt?"

"That's enough from you," Blaine made a face at him before asking Kurt, "What do you think?"

"You guys…did all this…?" Kurt asked, looking around.

"Just a little thing from us," said Wes, smiling. "Blaine said you looked as though you had trouble earlier…and I guess the only way we could make you feel at home was to make you a little bit of one."

Kurt looked at them, struggling with words. "I…I don't even know what to say."

"Your wide-eyed expression of pure shock is gratitude enough—we'll want to see it again," said Evan. Ethan pushed Blaine onto him and added, "Now be a good little Alice and play with Blaine while Evan and I destroy Wes and David in a game of Halo."

Blaine and Kurt collided and turned red, glancing away from each other. The twins looked pleased and trooped out with Wes and David.

"We're leaving them together?" asked David.

"Sadly I don't expect anything to happen," Wes rolled his eyes. "At best they'll end up in Blaine's room watching some Disney on the widescreen before our gentleman takes "Alice" home."

David rolled his eyes. But Wes grinned, "Hey on the bright side—we won't have to hear Blaine playing Teenage Dream on infinite loop anymore."

* * *

_On the next episode: Living in a dormitory is drastically different from living at home. And living in a Dalton House is different from normal dormitories. And living in Windsor House is different from living in any other Dalton House. While Kurt tries to make sense of dorm life and Dalton's unspoken social rules, Blaine finds that proud as he may be to see Kurt getting a chance to shine, it also brings in the competition. And not the show choir kind._


	3. Voices

_Hello, I'm C Coulter, your author for this fic._

_Once again, I am truly grateful to everyone who has left me a comment and expressed a liking to my little set of Dalton adventures. I'm very happy to know that you have enjoyed it, and hope that you will continue to do so. _

_As I expressed in the first chapter, this piece will not follow Glee continuity (Glee is in a level of its own). This piece is merely to satisfy my own fancies about what might happen in Dalton if the characters were the way they were, and I am glad to hear that my OCs (who I had been worried about) are well received, especially the twins. There will be a few more to appear, and I am supposing I should create some sort of index, perhaps at a later date._

_As always, I hope you enjoy this episode. :)_

(**I do not own Glee.**)

* * *

**Dalton**

**Episode 3: Voices**

* * *

The fact that he could seal up his life in a few boxes was somewhat depressing. At least the boys had been there. David and Wes were looking for a reason, _any reason_ to leave Advanced Chemistry and the twins never needed a reason, while Blaine had steadfastly insisted on being there. Finn also insisted upon helping—bewildered as he was with the troop of blazer-clad boys invading the Hudson-Hummel home—but seeing him lift and load the boxes that contained the mass of "essentials" that Kurt apparently required to live only made the transition from home to boarding school all the more awkward. But the fact that Finn gave him an encouraging smile helped.

With that smile, Kurt remembered New Directions singing to him, and nodded back at his brand new stepbrother, as though assuring him he'd be all right.

Finn's whisper of "Seriously, what Puck said, all right? Don't forget to let us know what you're up to over there…" to him as he left just made him laugh.

"If I didn't know any better, I'd think you're anxious to get rid of me," Kurt had responded.

"What—no, dude, I mean—why would we—"

Kurt let Finn flounder in confusion one last time before he grinned and told him he was joking, and that he'll see him on the weekends. He gave his parents a hug—Carole gave him a warm, affectionate one, already looking as though she would miss him dearly and promising to pester him for fashion advice; Burt's hug was stronger, more solid, that asked if he would be fine. Kurt nodded to him and without having to say anything, Burt knew his son would be all right for the time being. Then Kurt was ready to go.

Burt had carefully watched each of the boys with Kurt as they loaded things into Wes' Hummer—"You're not trying to help, you're trying to show off," he'd told the twins when they suggested to take Kurt's things using their personal limo—and noted how each of them behaved towards his son.

His eyes lingered longer on Blaine and Kurt, which was why on the way to Westerville, Kurt received a text message from Burt: _You watch yourself out there—don't let any of them do anything funny._

Kurt was confused, but when Blaine saw the text over his shoulder, he understood and just smiled faintly to himself. He didn't need Burt's silent threat of death—as of yet, he had no intention of advancing on Kurt no matter how much every inch of him screamed to.

He hoped he could hold out.

When they had arrived back at Windsor, Kurt (who had been allowed one full day to settle into Dalton before resuming class) insisted on kicking the entire mass of boys out—"You cut enough class yesterday, go back to class and stop digging through my wardrobe!" "We can't help it—it's so…amplified!"—so he had time alone.

When he placed the last Dolce into his closet, he pushed the whole mass to one side and held up his new set of uniforms. He gave the blazer a long look before sighing. His mass of designer wear would be officially consigned to obscurity until the weekends. He thanked small mercies—at least he could still accessorize as within school limitations.

After the whirlwind of the past day—the classes, learning about Dalton, seeing Windsor, meeting its mildly unhinged occupants, being sung to over the phone by New Directions, auditioning for Warblers and being drafted that same day, and being given his own Windsor room—Kurt had run out of emotions and reactions.

He had no idea what happened, but all he remembered was that once he finally finished putting up the photos of New Directions onto his own corkboard by the desk, he flopped down onto his downy bed, sinking into the ridiculously soft comforter the twins had given him, and promptly passed out…

…before he woke up—with the entire room black as the nightfall and freezing—to a strong hand covering his mouth and hands grabbing his wrists and ankles. His sharp cry was stifled by the hands as he got dragged off the bed and into the darkness.

* * *

_I'm Kurt. And this is Dalton Academy._

_And I think…that I'm currently being kidnapped._

_Yup._

_...I totally didn't see that coming._

* * *

When he was unceremoniously dropped into what felt like earth and grass, the blindfold that got placed around his eyes finally got removed, and he found himself blinking and squinting as his eyes adjusted from totally darkness to the firelight.

And just as he had somehow expected, a mass of boys (in interesting variations of sleep wear) were standing across him on the other side of a bonfire, grinning broadly. They all cheered when they saw his reaction.

"Kurt Hummel, you have officially been a Windsor boy for twenty-four hours!" chirruped Evan far too perkily for the hour, wearing bright white pajamas.

"And because you have and therefore can no longer repeal your move, we have officially decided to initiate you!" Ethan said happily, in pajamas that matched his brother's.

"You know my mother keeps telling me never to sleep without changing?" David said thoughtfully as he looked at Kurt's day clothes which the shell-shocked boy was still wearing. "Says it's unsanitary."

"What the hell, guys?" Kurt finally demanded, heart still thudding heavily in his chest as he stared at them, trying to catch his breath. "I thought I was going to die!"

"Sorry, we're sorry…" Blaine moved forward to try and calm him. Even in Kurt's fright-hazed state, he wondered why in blessed's sake Blaine had to wear _that_—a short-sleeved cotton sleeping shirt that fit him far too well—and completely derail his train of thought. "It's just something we do to all the newcomers. Right, Dwight?" Blaine glanced back to the crowd.

Wes snickered, "Dwight was screaming all the way down to the grounds."

The pale boy, shorter than the rest of the crowd, flipped him off with a highly-defined hand gesture before clutching back at one of the many medallions that hung from his neck. David just shook his head, "He was convinced we were going to burn him at the stake."

"I don't put it past you by now," Kurt raised an eyebrow, breathing a little easier now. He realized that Blaine's hand found its way onto his. He looked to him, and Blaine smiled as he asked, "You all right?"

Kurt swallowed and turned away from the firelight in Blaine's eyes and his adorably tousled hair. "Yeah. Fine. What's this…um, initiation?"

The twins, while deeply, deeply wishing that these two would hurry up and get a room soon, said, "It's your welcome party!"

There was a cheer from the boys as they dragged out a massive cooler and a huge sack filled with snacks from the bushes. The bonfire crackled as soda cans popped open and goodies emerged, the boys handing them out. Blaine grinned at Kurt. "We really didn't mean to frighten you."

"Yes, you did," Kurt managed to smile.

"All right, _maybe_," Blaine smirked, sitting next to him. "But for the record I was against scaring you. I wasn't sure how your nerves were doing after McKinley. But it was tradition, so…"

"For Dalton or just for Windsor?"

"Ah…just for Windsor," Blaine admitted. "The other houses usually hold day parties."

"Did they do it to you too?"

"Yes, they did." Blaine paused before giving Kurt and adorable grin. "And unlike you, who relatively retained dignity, I put up a fight in my dorm room and ended up concussing David with a lacrosse stick."

"I will still get you back for that," David retorted from one side of the campfire. Blaine laughed and added, "They had to turn all the lights on and hold the party in the clinic after that."

"Blaine!" the twins called, gesturing wildly, calling for him to come to where they were huddled with Wes and some other boys.

"Duty calls…" Blaine rolled his eyes but he smiled charmingly at Kurt, effectively ruining the last of the other boy's brain cells. "Be right back." He got up and went to the others.

Kurt followed him as he went and watched him laugh. Then he had the overwhelming urge to smack himself. He was being ridiculous. Clearly Blaine only actually saw him as a friend, and with his amazing record of being shot down by every seemingly perfect guy he'd gone for—Finn? Sam?—he was not quite prepared to handle rejection from Blaine.

_Friendship is good…_ Kurt tried to tell himself. _I mean, this is good for now. Sure, Finn isn't gay and Sam…well, I'm still on the fence with him, but he __**is**__ with Quinn… but Blaine is…amazing, and he's actually gay and…we're actually close. And we get along so well... If I ruined this now…_

"Hi Kurt!"

He looked up as a small boy with a mass of downy strawberry-blonde curls sat down next to him, offering him a diet coke. The smaller boy looked like an older, awkward version of a cherub out of a renaissance painting. Kurt took the soda gratefully and the boy said, with a bright smile, "I'm Reed. I live a few doors down from you."

"Hey," Kurt smiled, then blinked. He looked closely at Reed's attire. "…are those…the Dolce pajamas…?"

"Oh, you noticed?" he looked pleased. "Yeah, I really like them—they're comfortable and if I walk around in wearing these pants, no one notices. And I like your Chanel brooch." He pointed to the one on Kurt's collar. "I used to have one, a different design of course, but you know pins are dangerous and I might jab my collarbone with one, so I settled for some Harry Winston cufflinks—otherwise my uniform looks a bit plain. To me, anyway. Oh, that reminds me!"

He pulled out a velvet box, opened it, and took out a pin—a shield of royal blue crossed by a golden ray. He clipped it onto Kurt's collar. "There," he said. "It's the Windsor crest. You're one of us now. Isn't the pin nice? We had it customized at De Beers."

Kurt stared with his mouth hanging open at him. Reed look abashed. "Sorry. It's a habit. I talk too much, right?"

"No, I mean…thank you for this and…you…know your baubles," Kurt said with a curious smile.

"Oh, that comes from hanging around my mom," Reed answered. He took a sip of soda and gave a small jerk of pain. "Ow! Man, I don't believe it; I've cut my lip _again_."

"Are you okay?" Kurt asked when he saw him bleeding.

"I'm fine—always happens to me," Reed answered almost casually in spite of his obvious distress. He got up. "I'll go put something on this, see you in a bit!" And he hurried off. He passed Blaine, who saw him and then looked to the other boys, saying, "All right, who gave Reed a soda can? I told you people, just give him a juice box or something where he can't hurt himself!"

He sat down next to Kurt and grinned. "What's with the fish face?"

"I think I found my new best friend!" Kurt grinned.

"Reed?" Blaine laughed. "Yes, I saw how you dress and I knew you two might get along. Just…try to steer him away from anything sharp, pointy, or otherwise dangerous to most infants. He's…" he glanced back to where Reed and winced when the short boy tripped over a tree root and almost dived face-first, "…a little danger-prone."

"Yeah, is he…?"

"We honestly do _not_ know which team he bats for; my radar tells me yes, but it's still a little hazy," Blaine answered, shaking his head. "And we don't ask. We think maybe he's just fashion savvy because he's Van Kamp's son and—"

Kurt choked on his soda ungracefully. "_Hilde_ Van Kamp? The fashion magazine editor."

"That's the one. He's the only other person on campus I've seen with a wardrobe that looks remotely like yours. It's almost appalling." He looked at Kurt's starry eyes and added with a smirk, "…and now you're in love with him?"

Kurt playfully shoved him with a shoulder and laughed. "Well, I'm glad _someone_ at least shares my uniform sentiments. Why, are you worried I'll fall in love with little Reed?"

"I don't know; I might get terribly jealous if you do. Will you?" Blaine asked with a playful smirk that made Kurt flush.

* * *

"For the sake of all our sanities, when are they going to get a _move_ on?" Wes grumbled as their small group watched Kurt and Blaine flirt without realizing they were being watched. "I think I'm going to hurl up my s'mores if they keep this up."

"I think they're really cute," Reed, with a piece of tape on his lip, grinned.

"It's too early, I think," Dwight commented, looking a tad displeased at being away from the safety of his salt circle. "Kurt just got here. Bringing whatever spirits and bad auras are tailing him from McKinley."

"Have you any idea how long we suffered through Blaine's dramatics when he _wasn't_ here?" Ethan grumbled at him.

Evan sighed. "I swear, getting our little Alice here was a _relief_. Of course we'll still have to suffer through Blaine's daydreaming, but it's better than before…"

"I don't know, Blaine didn't look _that_ happy whenever he waits for a text from Hummel before," remarked Dwight. "Like he was waiting for the worst news—seemed relieved when everything was okay. And that Hummel has a whole lot of some dark aura from back where he came from."

"Oh we're seeing auras now?" Wes said sarcastically.

"I'm serious! Why did he move here anyway? Do any of you know?"

Silence. David looked contemplative. "Blaine didn't actually say… he didn't actually tell us much in between talking about how _wonderful_ Kurt was." He rolled his eyes.

"I always thought he thought that Kurt was adorable during his failed spying and just decided to…I don't know, go for him," Wes remarked. "I don't know what was happening back when Blaine kept disappearing to Lima, but I just figured he was convincing him to switch schools so he may worship him at his leisure."

"There," Dwight nodded with a maddeningly knowing look. "I knew it. I called it."

"Called what?"

"That Hummel's been _cursed_. _Cursed_, I'm telling you. Back in his old town, he must've infuriated some ecto-secreting nightmare and now he's brought the curse to _us_. And he's got like…like…_Blaine_ under his _spell_." Dwight flailed from under his flimsy black robe. "Under a spell. Like in _Jennifer's Body_ or something. That was a creepy movie, man."

"Wha—_Jennifer's_—dude, you have _got_ to lay off all that rock salt," Wes narrowed his eyes at him.

"I'll agree with the spell part, I'll give you that," David smirked at the oblivious pair by the campfire. "Come on, they'll subtly flirt forever and get nowhere. Let's go annoy Blaine and break it up."

The twins happily trooped after him and proceeded to throw themselves between the two and be gargantuan distractions, culminating in the twins grabbing Blaine and Kurt each and twirling them around in some crazed puppet form of a waltz that sent more than a few boys tumbling into the dead autumn leaves

When the entire party eventually started pelting each other with half-toasted marshmallows—the twins pulling out twin marshmallow guns and rapid firing every boy in their radius—the elderly groundskeeper, Mr. Tamerlane arrived. The boys, with Kurt in tow, fled like mad back to the dorm before any of them could come within reach of his cane—or worse, his eyesight—and would earn them a whole new round of sanctions from House head Howard.

* * *

That party had gone on late, and everyone in Windsor ended up sleeping far later than was advisable for people who had school the next day. Kurt was sure, as he fell back to sleep, that he would never get up, but he woke up the next morning to someone screaming the whole dorm down from the foyer. Someone female, who was extremely unhappy.

"—_AND I KNOW YOU'RE IN HERE, WES! GET DOWN HERE RIGHT NOW! GET DOWN THIS MINUTE OR I'LL—!"_

Blearily, he poked his head out the door to see Blaine doing the same from across the hall, eyes still heavy with sleep and looking truly annoyed. The screaming downstairs persisted, more boys down the hall started to peer out. Blaine walked down the hall, rubbing his eyes, and pounded on Wes and David's room.

"David. David, damn it, open the door!"

After a groan of disgust from the other side, David did open the door, and he looked unlike his usual trim self and he also looked exasperated. Blaine grumbled, "Wake Wes and tell him Tabitha's here before the rest of us _hurl _her out."

"He's got a hangover," David muttered, gesturing tiredly to the other bed in the room.

Wes was buried under one ridiculously oversized pillow, which was so thick that it probably was why he could not hear the screaming. Grumbling was starting to come from the other boys, complaints rising. Blaine narrowed his eyes at the prostrate figure on the bed. "Right. I'll wake him…you get her to be quiet."

"I thought they already broke up last week…?" David complained, rubbing his face and clearly not relishing the assignment.

"They did. But it seems she's only found out _now_."

"—_I SWEAR YOU AND I ARE GOING TO TALK WHETHER YOU LIKE IT OR NOT! WES!—"_

"_I'll_ get her to be quiet," Kurt suddenly said, tightening the cord of his robe and flouncing down the halls, dark rims under his eyes.

"Whoa! Whoa!" overhearing, the twins bolted down the hall and went running to stop him, barring his way and holding out their hands. "Wait! Hold it, Alice—don't be a hero! Tabitha, she—she's crazy! Absolutely psycho!"

"I have to live with _you __two_, how crazy can _she_ be?" Kurt snapped as he moved past them.

Evan turned to his brother with wide eyes. "_Ouch_."

"But true," Ethan admitted with a smirk.

Then they realized Kurt was still headed downstairs and quickly chased after him. Dwight was hanging over the banisters that looked down to the foyer, holding a medallion up defensively to combat the wrath of the furious girl in the black leggings, ugg boots, sweater and vest downstairs. She was strikingly beautiful, with perfectly tanned skin, and floods of wavy brown hair coming out of her beanie. But she looked furious, screaming and stamping her feet.

Kurt passed him as he headed down the stairs—the twins hurtling after him—and Dwight followed, alarmed, hand cocked on the trigger of his holy water sprayer. He was sensing some serious dark aura coming out of Kurt right now.

"_WESLEY JONATHAN HUGHES, YOU COME DOWN RIGHT THIS MINUTE OR I'LL—!"_ and she then unleashed an earsplitting scream at an impossibly shrill pitch that could have brought the entrance hall chandelier crashing down right on her head. The twins and Dwight winced at this performance, their nails scraping at the wooden banisters as the scream lasted a full ten seconds.

Kurt did not bat an eye from where he stood, looking truly malevolent. Tabitha, breathing hard with her exertion, finally noticed the slim boy by the stairs and glowered. "What are _you_ looking at?" And she turned back upstairs and screamed, "_WES! DOWNSTAIRS, NOW!"_

"All right, _**that's it**_!" Kurt finally screamed.

Tabitha looked at him and pointed a perfectly manicured finger. "Stay out of this!"

"All right, _look_ you little spoiled last season Prada princess," Kurt strode right up to her, swatting her hand away and eyes blazing. "I have had just about e-_freaking_-nough of your banshee screaming this early in the morning! Were you raised in a _barn_? I have met troglodytes with more social capacity than you! Now you listen here—"

He advanced at shell-shocked Tabitha who was rendered speechless by his rage, and he jabbed a finger at her chest, "—I have been hurled around, stripped of my designer clothes, stuffed into a uniform, thrown a week's worth of homework in a single day, kidnapped in the dead of night, pelted with half-roasted marshmallows, have had just three hours of sleep, and I have not even done _my moisturizing regime_! You will _calm_ your iron-fried hair down, you will _patiently _wait for Wes to come downstairs, you will _be _quiet, and you will _stop screaming _with your nails-on-a-chalkboard voice before you break my perfect pitch hearing and that of every Warbler in this House! _Do you understand__?_"

Utter silence in the entire house.

Tabitha gaped at him, mouth open with no sound coming out. The twins and Dwight, already on the landing, were paralyzed in shock. From the mezzanine, the boys of Windsor were staring in varying degrees of amazement and utter fear. Kurt, breathing hard, now turned heel and strode towards the common room, past the three boys on the landing. Dwight quickly stumbled backwards onto the twins, turning his defensive medallion against Kurt in terror.

The twins scrambled after Kurt, who was holding a hand to his temple. "Are you…okay…?" Evan asked in a soft, frightened whisper.

Kurt, who had stopped in the middle of the area, groaned silently as he leaned his head into his hand, face flushed. "…I need coffee. Lots and lots of coffee, please."

Ethan ran past him immediately to go get it from the kitchen.

"Tabitha!" Wes gasped from the top of the stairs, running down and his robe haphazardly tied on him. He ran to the girl on the foyer who was still staring, white as a sheet, at Kurt. "Baby, what are you doing here? Geez, I told you you _can't_ come in the dorm—go, just go, okay? Come on—"

"He—he—he just—!" Tabitha managed to say shakily, pointing at Kurt.

"Yes, yes I know—and if you value your life, you will never ever do this again…" said Wes in a low tone, steering her away and towards the door as David clutched onto one of the banisters, entire body shaking in repressed peals of laughter.

Blaine watched the two go before cautiously going up to Kurt as Ethan gingerly handed him the coffee, making sure not to touch him as he did so. The drink might have been searing hot but Kurt took two long sips and groaned in relief. "Well that was…was…uh, effective." Blaine stared. "Are you okay?"

"…what in the name of Marc Jacobs just happened?" Kurt murmured, disoriented, closing his eyes.

"…you slew the Jabberwocky?" Evan suggested, eyes wide.

"You scared Tabitha Adams out of Windsor," Blaine supplied with a faint smile. "Hopefully for good. But her on-off relationship with Wes might say otherwise. This happens about once a month."

Kurt just moaned again in reply, taking another inhale of coffee and almost draining it. "…I've barely been here a week and I'm already turning into one of you…" he fell and slumped completely against Blaine who put his arms around him and made soothing sounds.

Before he could lead Kurt to sit down, Dwight grabbed his arm and pleaded in a whisper to him, "…please don't ever make him angry, Blaine. I'm scared. I—I don't think I can exorcise that."

"Duly noted," Blaine said, trying hard not to smile as he went to go sit with Kurt on the couch.

* * *

"I am so _so _sorry about this morning," Wes apologized repeatedly as he caught up to Kurt during lunch period. "I swear, she's not all that bad—"

"You are _not_ helping your case," Blaine remarked, cocking an eyebrow at him.

"Fine, she can be a little demented, but she's still—"

"It's fine, Wes," Kurt murmured, waving it away and trying to concentrate on his notes for Theoretical Physics. "I can barely even remember what I said or did—my brain sort of shut off on me and then went on autopilot. I guess I'm sorry for yelling at your…uh…what is she now?"

"Still my ex," Wes said with a deep sigh. "On the upside, you reading her the riot act made our talk outside a whole lot less ugly than it might have been."

"Cheer up, buddy," David put an arm around his shoulders and grinned. "Your ex was the original pain in the ass anyway. You'll live. And world war three doesn't have to happen as long as Tabitha stays far away from Kurt." He laughed. "Dwight said that if Kurt had died of a heart attack with all that rage right then, Windsor would totally become the next house on The Grudge."

Kurt groaned, embarrassed. "I don't want to talk about this—I don't know what came over me."

"Kind of impressive, actually," Blaine smiled at him playfully. "I didn't know you could be that forceful. And I'll remember to supply you with coffee immediately on your bad days." Kurt flushed and just ducked back down on his notes, trying to memorize the formulae and forcing himself to stop enjoying Blaine's arm brushing against his.

"Hey Kurt!" called some of the students as they passed by. "Congratulations on making it into the Warblers!"

Surprised and pleased, Kurt smiled as he received their greetings, handshakes, high-fives and pats on the shoulder. It was only now that he realized what Blaine meant about the Warblers being rockstars—everyone in the hall seemed to know who he was. It was rather surprising.

Blaine watched Kurt marveling at all the attention and smiled to himself. The school seemed to be warming up to him well enough. Students would openly stop and chat with Kurt in the halls, ask him questions about school and Warblers, or even just to say hi. He could tell Kurt wasn't used to this kind of attention, but it seemed to make his transition easier.

"That reminds me," Kurt said, looking up. "I'm supposed to get my own copy of our set list for Sectionals and the sheet music for the other songs you guys are working on."

"Medel said she'll leave your folio in the Hall," Blaine answered. He looked around and saw that they were passing by the corridor leading to the Hall. "Want to go grab it before going to the cafeteria?"

"You guys go ahead, I'll catch up," Kurt replied, hurrying down the corridor, elated.

Wes laughed as he watched him go. "He's enthusiastic, I'll give him that."

* * *

Kurt hurried to the Warblers' Hall and quietly opened the door. Somewhat familiar music greeted him as he entered, coming from the piano.

There was a handsome boy sitting at the piano, fingers moving smoothly and easily over the keys, playing a melodious harmony. With a captivating color in his voice, he was vocalizing along with it casually. "…_I realize…it was only just a dream…oh…"_

Kurt stared in spite of himself. The long-legged Adonis on the piano bench was playing on, seemingly not to notice him.

"_I open my eyes…it was only just a dream…"_

And as he turned his head, he saw Kurt. Paralyzed by the pale green eyes that now looked at him in surprise, Kurt stammered with an awkward gesture, "I—sorry, I didn't mean to run in."

But the boy just smiled and gestured him in. "It's fine. I was just trying it out anyway."

It was Kurt's turn to smile, relaxing. He walked up to him, dropping his bag down on one of the chairs as he did. "Are you a Warbler too?"

"That I am," he answered, looking up as Kurt stepped into the light of the windows. He gazed at him with an appreciative eye and a smile. "And you are, of course, our new countertenor." His smile widened as he extended a hand. "I'm Logan Wright."

"Kurt," Kurt breathed as he shook hands with him. Logan was unsettlingly good looking. His fine blond hair was styled back and his eyes were intensely piercing as they seemed to appraise him. "Kurt Hummel."

"I know." Logan laughed. "I saw you and heard you sing yesterday. There was no way Harvey wouldn't adopt you. You're something else."

It was one thing to find himself in a school where everyone was friendly and liked him, but Kurt had never experienced being with a boy who openly gazed admiringly him without even trying to hide it. He felt himself color up in spite of himself, feeling awkward.

"Windsor?" Logan asked, gesturing to the pin on Kurt's lapel.

"Yeah." Kurt looked and saw that Logan had a pin too—but it was a red shield with two crossed white rays. Logan saw him looking at it and grinned. "Stuart," he explained.

"Ah," Kurt nodded with a smile.

"What brought you here?"

"Ms. Medel said that my folio—" he stopped as Logan immediately held out a black and blue music folio with another devastating smile. It all started to make Kurt feel a little uncomfortable. He took it from him. "Thanks…"

"Saw it on the piano when I sat here."

Kurt looked at him curiously. "You just come in here and play?"

"Like I said—I was trying out a song, maybe for the Fall Music Festival," Logan's hands ghosted over the keys again, playing that same harmony. He trailed it softly with his own voice moving up the scales.

He really had a voice, Kurt had to give him that. "You're going to sing Just a Dream?"

Now Logan looked immensely pleased. "The Sam Tsui version? Yes. Didn't expect you to know that, though."

"I go to Youtube too, you know," Kurt smirked.

Logan smirked. "You sang and grand-slammed "Don't Cry For Me Argentina" for your audition. I wasn't expecting his music to be your style."

"I like him. He's good."

"Then help me out a bit?" Logan looked almost embarrassed. He held out a lyric sheet to him. "I was thinking of doing that song, but I wasn't sure how I'd sound."

Kurt, surprised, looked down at the sheet now in his hand and looked back to him. "…you need a duet partner for this. To sing Christina Grimmie's part."

"That's why I was thinking of nixing it," Logan admitted. "Hell, I don't even know if I could sing it." He prodded a few keys. Kurt watched him and then carefully said, "Well…you know you sounded really good. For practice."

"Really." Logan looked amused. Kurt still wasn't sure if he was comfortable about the way Logan just seemed to look at him like he was trying to see through him. But the smile was friendly. "Want to sing it with me?" He straightened up and put his hands on the keys, starting the opening melody. "Just the first part. I just need someone to harmonize with me. If I totally suck, feel free to stop me at any time and throw the sheets in my face."

Kurt laughed, but stopped when he realized that he was serious. Logan played well, with barely any effort, on the piano. Kurt shifted a little. "I haven't really tried this kind of song before…"

"Wing it," Logan shrugged carelessly with a lazy smile. "What's wrong with doing something a little different?" It made sense, and Kurt smiled a little. The taller boy glanced at him. "You don't mind singing Christina's part?"

"Not much of a choice there," Kurt made a bit of a face at him, and Logan laughed.

Logan eyed him as he played, and began to sing.

_I was thinkin about you, thinkin about me._

_Thinkin about us what we gonna be?_

_Open my eyes…_

Kurt was stunned in spite of himself. Logan's vocal sounded even better when he really meant to sing and not just practice tentatively. He almost forgot his place, but joined in. "…_it was only just a dream_." At Logan's encouraging nod, body swaying slightly to the beat, Kurt took up the line.

_I travel back, down that road._

_Will you come back? No one knows._

_I realize, it was only just a dream…_

In spite of it not being his usual style, he found himself moving along to the music and getting into it. Logan smiled and sang again—his voice sure and seamless to the music:

_I was at the top and I was like I'm in the basement._

_Number one spot and now you found your own replacement._

_I swear now that I can't take it, knowing somebody's got my baby._

_He's…really good_, Kurt marveled. And the song was the type of music that suited his kind of voice. Logan leaned to him as he sang, singing to him, his body grooving a little bit to the music.

_And now you ain't around, baby I can't think._

_I shoulda put it down. Shoulda got that ring._

'_Cause I can still feel it in the air._

_See your pretty face run my fingers through your hair._

_My lover, my life. My baby, my wife._

_You left me, I'm tied._

'_Cause I know that it just ain't right…_

Kurt rejoined him now, their voices harmonizing for the chorus.

_I was thinkin about you, thinkin about me._

_Thinkin about us, what we gonna be?_

_Open my eyes; it was only just a dream._

_So I travel back, down that road._

_Will you come back? No one knows._

_I realize, it was only just a dream…_

Logan let the music trail away, throwing in a couple of soft adlibs before letting silence take over. His hands came to rest on the keyboard, and he looked up at Kurt with a strange smile. It was the kind Kurt had seen once before—on Finn when Rachel sang "The Only Exception" to him.

And he didn't know what to make of it.

"So much for not being your style," Logan teased. "You're not so bad at it yourself."

"I still don't think it fits me all that much, but…it was all right," Kurt shrugged, avoiding Logan's pale green gaze.

"Oh really…" Logan leaned forward a bit, amused.

The door to the Hall practically slammed open.

The two looked up to see five boys standing there. Wes had been the one to open that door, hand still resting on it. David stood at the other side, arms akimbo. Blaine stood in the middle of them up front, with Evan and Ethan behind him.

All of the boys had some form of smile on their face, but Kurt saw something hard behind the smiles. Blaine's was almost a smirk, and a cold one. "Hello, Logan."

"Hello, Blaine," Logan's smile was cool and composed.

"Kurt," Blaine said with a gentler smile to the somewhat startled boy, "We better get some lunch in you before your Physics class—you'll want it."

"Right," Kurt laughed, feeling rather relieved. He picked up his folio and his bag and looked at Logan with a brief smile. "Thanks again."

"No…thank _you_." Logan smiled kindly. "I don't think I'll use the song, but it was good. For practice."

"Let's _go_, Kurt," David said, with an edge to his voice that Kurt had never heard before, and so slight that he thought he was imagining it. David didn't even look at him as he said this, he was looking intently at Logan.

Blaine took Kurt's hand and led him out. Blaine's touch was warm and gentle as ever, and Kurt wondered if the expressions on their faces earlier were just tricks of the light. It was Wes who closed the door and as they walked down the hall, he said with too much enthusiasm, "So! Lunch?"

"Yeah," Kurt nodded. He eyed his fellow Windsors. "…are you guys alright?"

"Absolutely," Blaine replied, smiling at him.

Kurt blushed. He now understood the difference between Blaine's smile and Logan's. Logan's smile was the kind that hit you full force and looked like an airbrushed magazine ad. Blaine's smile on the other hand…was just his own—and perfect.

Kurt tightened his hold on his hand and smiled back. "…glad you came when you did."

"Sure…" Blaine nodded, looking back ahead. He didn't want to tell Kurt how relieved he was to hear that.

* * *

From Warblers' Hall, Logan leaned on the spot where Kurt had been resting against the piano. He was looking out the window, deep in thought. Presently, a voice sounded at the door. A boy carrying a satchel was leaning there. He was shorter than Logan, but his body looked lean and strong, like an athlete. On his lapel was a red shield crossed with white rays.

"First time I've heard you sing with anyone in a long time."

Logan smiled without turning. "I know… I got too interested."

"The Windsor guys didn't look happy," said the other boy coolly. "Especially Blaine. I thought he was going to throw a fit when I saw them listening in on you two."

"Really." Logan said, looking out the window to the cloudy autumn sky that reminded him of Kurt's eye color. "…that's so interesting."

* * *

And Reed, who had been passing by, heard all of this, marked it, and fled down the hall.

* * *

_On the next episode: The Windsor boys are becoming rather protective of their fiery little "Alice", who starts to rather enjoy their company, especially that of a little fashionably-dressed Dormouse. While the Tweedle twins try to hear through walls, the Hare and the Hatter have to work double time to keep this tea party running smoothly. The White Rabbit has other plans, however, and goes to see a red Knave himself._


	4. Crossed Swords

_Hi, I'm C Coulter, your author for this fic._

_That last episode seemed to have earned me more comments than in any of the previous two, and I am truly delighted to discover that you all have enjoyed the latest episode. _

_(I have seen a link of my story moving around Tumblr's fandom. May I know who posted it there so I may properly thank you? :) )_

_ However, I do believe it's high time that we explored Dalton relations a bit more, to begin what will be a defining line between houses and the students._

_I would like to thank each and every one of the commenters for their words of support. It is you who inspire me. As a thank you, today's episode arrives a little bit earlier, and it goes from me to you hoping that you enjoy this one as well._

_(**I do not own Glee**-it would not be as amazing as it is if I did.)_

* * *

**Dalton**

**Episode 4:**** Crossed-Swords**

* * *

For the first time since he moved into Windsor, Kurt woke one morning to his actual alarm clock and not for any other mad reason—and it felt fantastic. He yawned and shoved off the comforter and sat up in bed, blinking into the early light. Speckles of dust glimmered through the sunbeams that filtered through the windows. He sighed and rubbed his face, then got up and turned to his room properly…

…to heave a deep, exasperated sigh.

Like yesterday, his room was, once again, overrun by what must be dozens and dozens of coffee cups resting on top every surface—from mugs and teacups to thermos cups and Styrofoam ones.

Kurt glowered at the mess of it all (which took forever to get rid of yesterday) then turned to his closed door and called, "_You guys can stop doing this every morning!_"

There was an eruption of barely restrained chortling and snickering from the other side of the door as the mass of Windsor boys immediately fled for their lives, running to their respective rooms, feet pounding on the wood floors and slamming of doors echoing down the hall.

Kurt glared at turned back to the mess. He looked to his bedside table and saw that, like yesterday, one particularly dainty latte cup was sitting there with a post-it (while all others remained unidentified).

_Look at it this way: we clearly must really like you._ _–B_

Torn between wanting to laugh and wanting to strangle the sender, Kurt just smiled and scooped up the coffee cup, determined to find a lock for his doors that the twins couldn't possibly crack.

* * *

_I'm Kurt. And this is Dalton Academy._

_After a few days, I did end up getting a bit more used to the strange things inside Windsor. They all mean well, but they're also clearly insane._

_I've also started to get used to the daily grind at Dalton. But somehow I still have this feeling that I've only scratched the surface, and that there was something more I should be aware of._

* * *

Today was Friday and everyone was looking forward to going home for the weekend—except for the Warblers. With Sectionals scheduled on Tuesday, Mr. Harvey decreed that each and every Warbler was to stay in campus for rehearsal over the weekend. As much as Kurt would have wanted to return to Lima, he knew he had to stay as he only had this little time to be ready for Sectionals.

And besides, Mercedes' texts told him that there was trouble in paradise (as usual) back in McKinley. At best, he should stay out of the crossfire for now.

"A whole weekend of practice," Wes groaned, leaning against the wall as he, David and Blaine waited for Kurt to get out of Art History. "That should be fun."

"What else are you going to do all weekend? Marathon _Mythbusters_ for the fifteenth time?" David raised an eyebrow. "And it's not like you've got to look after Tabitha this weekend."

"I miss Tabitha," Wes admitted.

David stared. "_WHY_?"

"She's never boring, at least."

"Wes, you'll be stuck all weekend with us, including the twins, inside Windsor," Blaine raised an eyebrow, looking up from his Blackberry. "I would hardly think that a group of cabin-fevered Warblers will be boring all weekend."

"_You'll_ be boring," Wes protested. "You'll just be looking to flirt and rehearse—" air quotation marks, "—with Kurt all weekend." An Earth Sciences book hit his face in the next instant.

David considered. "May have a point there."

"I hate you both."

"You might want to think about doing something," Wes reminded him. "I can pretty much see a bright red laser dot on Kurt coming from Logan's sniper rifle. I mean did you _see_ the way Logan was looking at him yesterday? He looked like he wanted to grab him or something."

"Don't remind me," Blaine said, expression changing for only a brief instant. "I've already planned on doing …_something_."

David blinked in surprise. "So you _do_ have plans to flirt with Kurt? Seduce? Throw him onto your bed and perform loudly to the point that it will have the entire dorm evacuated within fourteen seconds?"

"Why are we evacuating the dorm?" asked Kurt as he now came out of the classroom.

Blaine, deep scarlet, jumped up and subtly proceeded to crush David's foot with his heel as he did so. "Nothing. Well, I just thought that since you wouldn't want to be stuck in there with the twins while they have cabin fever, you can watch the fencing meet later after class."

"Damn it, Blaine—I think you just hacked off my big toe!" David howled, hopping on one foot.

"He needs his toes to dance for Sectionals, Blaine…" Wes warned.

Kurt looked in confusion at the two and then back to Blaine who giving them a "_would you be quiet"_ look and leading Kurt away. "What is wrong with his foot and what fencing meet?" Kurt asked him.

"We're playing host to a fencing meet with St. Patrick's Academy later today," Blaine answered. "It's the only thing happening in school other than Warbler practice. …And there's nothing wrong with David's foot, he's overreacting."

"Over_reacting_?" David demanded, aghast, having somehow taken off his shoes and sock as they stopped in the hall. "The nail's turning black and gross!"

Kurt found it all highly entertaining, especially since it was David, who was usually a little primmer in appearance, and had to stifle a burp of laughter. David just made a face at him and Blaine and sat down on a nearby cushioned bench, putting his sock and shoe back on as he mumbled about "repressed hormones" or something like it.

Kurt glanced away for a moment, trying to stop shaking with laughter, and thought he spotted a familiar face at the other end of the corridor. He was right—along with a small band of Stuarts, Logan was walking into another corridor and met his eyes just for a brief moment. The taller boy smiled briefly before he disappeared.

Turning back to the other three, he tried to stop his pounding chest, swallowing hard. He didn't know if it was just his imagination all over again, but he felt as though he had been seeing an awful lot of Logan in the halls in the past few days. Or maybe he had simply always been around, he only noticed now as he'd actually met him. It was starting to get somewhat unnerving.

The other three didn't notice a thing. Wes rolled his eyes and looked to Kurt. "Look, whatever—go to the meet and cheer for Blaine, Kurt, that's what he's asking you."

Now Kurt stared in surprise. "You fence…?"

"A little," Blaine coughed. "You don't have to cheer. I just thought you might want to go if you've nothing else to do before Warblers' practice."

"Of course I'll go," Kurt grinned, in spite of the fact that he about a million miles of homework to get to. "I want to see you break the stereotype to little pieces. And besides, I heard that school sports meets allow students to come in casual clothing." He of course did not add that he wanted to see Blaine in one of those fencing suits.

"Great," Blaine smiled. "Looking forward to it."

Wes and David looked at each other with knowing expressions, smirking.

* * *

It wasn't often that the twins separated from their usual compatriots, but when they did it was usually for a good reason. Sitting in the cafeteria, they both looked at Reed, concerned.

"Say that again?" Ethan said, tilting his head.

"I don't know, it just…it didn't sound really nice," Reed said uncomfortably, holding a hot cup of chai in his hands. "I'm probably overthinking. But you know as well as I do that Logan…he's not that much of a team player. And he gets his way."

"Of course we know," Evan muttered.

"They didn't actually say anything about Kurt? Logan and Derek?" Ethan prompted.

"Just…that Derek said he hadn't heard Logan sing with anyone—suppose he meant just one person—in a long time. And that Logan said he was "too interested"." Reed looked up and flailed somewhat. "I just thought the way they said it was worrisome."

The twins looked at each other, then back to Reed. "Anything else?"

"Not really," sighed Reed. "I'm just really worried." He paused and added, "I mean, Blaine really _likes_ Kurt, right? And Logan…he… I just thought that he might be trying to ruin that." He fidgeted. "But I'm not sure. Don't quote me. Whatever."

"We did see Logan _watching_ Kurt and Blaine during Warblers' meetings…" Evan murmured, but Ethan shook his head and continued for him, "…but it might be that he just really _does_ like our little Alice, and nothing personal about Blaine at all."

"Pfft. Right. Sure."

"But I wouldn't want to try and figure out what goes on in his head."

"Of course you don't."

"Who would?"

"Must be like walking into an HP Lovecraft novel."

Reed flailed. "Guys!" The twins looked at him. Reed hesitated for one moment, and then blurted out, "There's something else."

They looked at him expectantly. Reed ducked his head and whispered, "…Derek…said that he saw how…upset you guys looked when you saw them in the room together. And Logan…said _that_ was interesting."

The twins slowly leaned back.

"Well…"

"That's…"

"…rather different." A pair of odd twin smiles appeared.

Reed looked up quickly. "Please don't tell Blaine, Wes and David. I saw the looks on your faces when they came out of the room with you two and Kurt. We can't have problems _now_, I mean, we're almost to Sectionals and we _need_ everybody—and everybody includes Logan and Derek. I told you, I'm just telling you what I heard, I don't know _anything. _I just thought it was something to be cautious about!"

"You know the problem with nice people is that you can't tell whether one of them has a temper or not…" Evan began.

"…and I'm not sure where to classify Blaine in that," Ethan nodded.

"They'll be fencing on the team together later, though," Reed said thoughtfully.

"Perfect." The twins now smiled at Reed. "Keep Alice busy, little Dormouse—keep him away from our dear Rabbit and that tart-stealer until the meet. We'll be doing a little field research in the meantime."

* * *

_All right, universe, you can take it back now_, Kurt thought inwardly as he returned, alone, to Windsor carrying a bulging satchel full of homework. _Challenging is great, but not __**this**__ challenging! _There were too many things now to worry about, homework being a major one. If he didn't keep up his academics, it would be doing disservice to the fact that his parents did sacrifice their entire honeymoon just to send him here.

He was just about to start on his arts assignment when the knock came. He got up, opened the door and saw Reed standing there with a nice hopeful smile. "Hi, Alice—I mean Kurt." He laughed.

"You've been hanging out with the twins, I'm sure," Kurt smiled. "Come in."

Reed came in, holding a box in his hands, looking around. "Your room's a normal one… Mine is the only odd one, I suppose. All that padding, and I can't have a roommate." He laughed embarrassedly. "And Dwight's room too. A whole lot of creepy things. I don't know how his roommate manages it."

"I kind of like your room," Kurt remarked, smiling as he remembered the white softness of everything in Reed's room. "It's incredibly plush. And heaven forbid anyone spill _anything_ into it. Getting stains out of that gorgeous sofa must be a pain."

"Speaking of spills, all the coffee is still here?" Reed chortled as he saw the cups everywhere—a few having been emptied. Kurt rolled his eyes. "It was _one outburst_, it's not going to happen again."

"And we're just making sure of that!" Reed exclaimed with a grin. He laughed and thrust the box to Kurt's hands. "Here. A welcome present from me."

"Oh…" Kurt looked stunned. "You didn't have to…" But Reed, after checking the sofa carefully for foreign things, plopped down into it and gestured for him to open it.

Kurt undid the ribbon, and it revealed the maker's imprint on the box. His eyes widened to their full limit and he tore the box lid off to lift out a soft Hermés stole in printed cashmere. "Oh…" he stared, at a loss for words.

"Do you like it?" Reed said, a bit worried.

"Are you _insane_—this is amazing!" Kurt hugged the stole and then hugged Reed for good measure. Owing to the financial situation back in Lima, he had never actually been gifted anything quite so luxurious. "Thank you, thank you!"

Reed burst out laughing and hugged back. "Don't be ridiculous—I'm relieved you like it. You realize you're the first person other than Blaine to have that kind of reaction out of everyone I've given welcome gifts to?" He looked at Kurt seriously. "When Dwight came here, I gave him a Versace belt. He's currently using its notches as places to hang mini glow-in-the-dark skeletons over his bed."

Kurt burst out laughing in amazement and horror. Reed smiled. "So you're watching Blaine today, right?" His smile broadened as he observed Kurt's instant slight reddening. "Have you figured out what to wear yet?"

Kurt, busy trying on the stole, gestured to his closet door where an outfit was hanging. Reed considered it with an expert's gaze. "…hmm…it's nice…"

"But…?" Kurt raised an eyebrow.

"The pants are good but the top… You could do much better. Especially since it's for Blaine?" Reed grinned. Before a deep scarlet Kurt could even protest, Reed was running to his closet and started looking through it. He tutted soundly, and Kurt protested, "It's all I could bring from my stuff at home!"

"An impressive collection, but it really won't do!" Reed struggled in mini-panic for a moment after getting snagged on a dry-cleaning bag, but popped out safely with tousled curls and plastic shreds in his hair before Kurt could help him. He was grinning. "Mom sends me things every week. Would you object to rooting through _my_ closet?"

Kurt's astonished expression was all he needed.

* * *

"Where's Blaine?" Wes muttered sideways to David, who was working on a project proposal in the common room. Without looking up, David answered, "Already off to the gymnasium. Why?"

Wes' expression was dark, watching blazer-wearing boys with red shields approaching from the outside. "We're being invaded by Stuarts."

"Whoa!" David threw off his book and leapt up, joining Wes in running to the foyer. From the upper banisters, Dwight looked down, yelling, "I sense evil!"

"You sure do," David muttered. "Where are the twins and their paintball guns when you need them…?" He arrived at the door and opened it just as the three Stuart boys were beginning to knock. David frowned. "Hello, Derek."

"Hello, David," smiled the tall boy, the athlete from the Warblers' Hall. "We were wondering where Hummel was."

Wes stepped up next to David. "Upstairs, in his room. Why?"

"Logan wanted us to give him this," he held out a plain brown envelope.

"What's in this that you need a colour guard with you?" asked Wes, taking it gingerly. "Anthrax? To _ensure _the complete knockout of our entire in-house Warbler lineup? You already did get everyone when you put laxatives in our drinks before we could perform A Very Potter Musical and steamroller you last year, but with Kurt here…"

Derek's smirk hardened. "No, actually, it's chunk of C4 to get back at you people for replacing our centennial sculpture's head with the head of the Pillsbury Dough Boy." He snorted. "No, I'm afraid it's a present. Why Logan would have any more interest in someone from Windsor, though…"

"You jealous, Derek?" Wes smiled now. "No, honest question. Worried about competition after having Logan all to yourself since he chased away his last Windsor conquest? Thanks for breaking his heart, by the way—we were _so_ happy when second lead soloist moved away—"

"Wow, you really think you're funny—"

"Whoah!" Dwight ran in between the two boys when Derek took a step forward. "Now, now. Everyone keep calm and I won't have to spray you." He looked back and forth between them. "Past is past, what's done is done. And nothing was _ever _proved. As far as we're concerned, we're all _innocent. _Let's not throw accusations all over again. Nothing's happened this school year, right? It's a giant clean slate. We're still all good?"

"Nothing's happened…yet." Wes said with a hard smile.

"I'm sure if anything does, it's from you pranksters," Derek remarked. "Seriously? A bonfire in the middle of the night for the newbie, with all the dry leaves everywhere? His voice is fantastic, but I don't think it's worth setting fire to campus for. This is not an episode of Jackass."

"Why can't you all get along outside of Warblers' Hall the way you do inside?" Dwight practically whined.

"Derek's not even a Warbler, Dwight," Wes snapped.

"Whatever," the cloaked boy snapped back. "Can we not do this? I'd like to pass midterms with a clean student record."

"You may leave now," David declared with a cold polite smile. "We'll give Logan's regards to Kurt."

"Why thank you, David." Derek returned the smile and left.

Wes slammed the door shut and all three Windsor boys leaned back on the door, sliding down in relief. "Could you guys maybe _not_ start anything while Blaine and Charlie aren't here?" Dwight begged, clutching his chest.

"Like Charlie would've stopped us," snorted Wes.

"He might," David reminded him. "He did say he'd had enough of this…_fight_ or whatever it is we've got against Stuart. He doesn't want any of us suspended and tarnish our immaculate records while he's away."

"David, it's being going on for _twenty-five freaking years_; we don't even know who started it! I bet not even our dads know. I don't think it's going to stop just because Charles Amos, our poor injured House prefect, says so."

"It might if our Acting House Prefect says so."

Wes snorted. "Like ol' lovestruck Blaine wouldn't get pissed off if he finds out Logan's going for Kurt. _He_ saw him _first_."

"Wait a minute—they're after Hummel now?" Dwight demanded. "What did he do to them?"

"Apparently? Catch Logan's attention." David stood, holding the envelope. "For either being his type or too good at singing, or both—I don't know, whatever it is, I don't trust him."

Wes brushed off his pants as he stood and gestured to the envelope. "Are you going to look in it?"

"S'not mine to look into," David sighed. "As long as it doesn't feel like there are wires in it, I hear no ticking and it doesn't leak gas, I think it's safe to give it to him."

Wes followed David up the stairs and Dwight tailed, grumbling something about being cursed again.

* * *

"All right boys," said the coach as the fencers gathered around him. The crowd murmur was echoing to the roof of the gymnasium. "You've all taken these guys before and they can barely keep up with your footwork. Bring it home for the third year in a row, all right? I want the final to be two Dalton fencers, you got that?"

"Yes sir," the boys chorused, nodding and the coach ushered them on out into the open area.

There was an explosion of cheering from the supporters of both Dalton and St. Patrick's in attendance, majority of which were Dalton boys, as it was their home turf. They were waving flags with the Dalton crest on them as their fencers entered the arena with its mass of mats and towering scoring columns.

"Just in time!" Reed breathed as he and Kurt arrived into the gymnasium with the rest of the Windsor boys. David couldn't take his eyes off of Kurt's crazy outfit and he was sure that it would drive Blaine to distraction.

Kurt was wearing tight black pants and some highly expensive-looking boots with low heels. The sleek silvery-gray belted turtleneck that he was wearing was hugging him distractingly well-placed locations, and his black coat had to have been something from Reed's reserves. The shade of the turtleneck amplified his eye color.

The twins smirked at each other at the outfit and said, "And in three…two…one…"

"Kurt!" Blaine was running towards them as they stood behind the barricade, smiling. He was wearing his white fencing suit that had the Windsor crest on one shoulder, and the Dalton crest on the other.

"Like clockwork," Evan sighed, pleased at predictability.

"Like a moth to a flame," Ethan agreed.

"Hello to you too, Blaine," David gave a sickly sweet smile to him when he got to the group. "Don't mind us or anything. We're just your best friends. Willing to throw ourselves in harm's way for you…"

"Willing to listen to Teenage Dream on loop for you…" added Wes.

"Willing to sacrifice sanity for you…"

"Willing to give you our share of Medel's post-performance brownies?"

"Hell _no_, I'm not giving him my share of those brownies!"

"Hello, Wes, hello David," Blaine said in monotone, humoring them with a grimace. It seemed to satisfy them. He looked at Kurt, who was smiling a little. "Hey."

"Hi," Kurt breathed, smile getting a bit bigger. "Good luck. Rooting for you."

"So you'll be really mad if I lose, right?" Blaine grinned. He stared at Kurt's outfit as though he just noticed it and was already sure that Kurt must've broken the necks of the Dalton boys, who must have never seen anyone arrive in that level of dress. The most they had given themselves to were waistcoats and tails. "Wow, you look… Well you're out of the uniform." He laughed. "You got all dressed up for this."

"It was my idea," Reed said, grinning. "He looks really good in that. I was thinking of giving it to him. Too big for me anyway."

Kurt turned to Reed with huge "_what are you doing?_" eyes before looking back to Blaine. "Just go win it, I'll cheer for you guys. By cheering I mean like just waving this little flag, not cheering cheering—like with the cartwheels and basket tosses and…" he trailed away looking awkward.

Blaine decided to pry into that little tidbit a little bit more later on.

"So does that mean you're cheering for me too?"

All the Windsor boys froze as Logan walked up to them. Kurt met the full force of Logan's pale green eyes and didn't waver. "Hey, Logan. I didn't know you were on the team too."

"Did you get the present I sent you?" Logan asked coolly, ignoring the stare that Blaine was giving him.

At the inquiry, Wes and David pushed their way to the front, the twins pulling Kurt a little back to make a somewhat protective cocoon. "Yes, we gave it to him," David said with another polite smile that somehow looked utterly forced. "But you should send the next one yourself, because your fellow Stuarts are a real pain in the ass."

Instead of getting angry, Logan just laughed. "I apologize about Derek, then. You know how testy he gets."

Blaine tore his eyes away from Logan and looked at Kurt and found their eyes meeting. Without prompting of any kind, Kurt's hand closed over his from on top of the barricade—he was just looking at him. Blaine was rather surprised but he smiled. Kurt just smiled back—and it was a conversation in itself.

"Good luck. I mean it."

"Thank you."

Logan, who did not miss the action, smiled at Kurt, who now looked at him and also nodded. "Yes, I got your present, that original vinyl record of Broadway music. Thank you—you really didn't have to."

"Just thought it suited you," Logan shrugged.

"Good luck. Hope you guys win." Kurt gave him a quick somewhat awkward wave.

Logan nodded and gave Blaine another glance—which was returned steadily—before he left to join the others onto the benches. Looking utterly triumphant, Wes now swept between the two and lifted Kurt's hand from Blaine's. "Now get lost!" Wes told the fencer kindly. "Go fence and win, please."

Blaine made a face at him but nodded to his friends, who waved their flags in reply as he ran back to the rest of the team.

* * *

The meet went down to two—both Dalton boys as the coach wanted. But every Dalton student was hanging on the edge of their seats, blue Windsor flags and red Stuart flags flailing, as Blaine and Logan walked to the Dalton bench and began to put on their gear.

"I've never ever _seen_ him fence like this before," said Ethan, rather amazed as Evan clapped wildly. "Are you our new good luck charm, Alice?"

"Please—that's all him," said Kurt, who can't help but feel a swell of pride. "He's just that good."

"Get him, Blaine!" Wes hooted, thumping his flaglet against the barricade.

"Man, Logan has yet to lose, though," David admitted, looking at the scores. "If he beats Blaine, he'll be on an all-kill for the second year in a row."

"Then I hope to old Herman Dalton that Blaine kicks his ass," Wes replied.

"Wes, come on," Kurt looked at him disapprovingly. "He's from Dalton and he's also a Warbler. Why are you all so on his case?"

"We'll tell you later," Reed whispered. And more loudly, "For now, cheer for who you want to win!"

Kurt turned to the floor, where the two were now headed towards the central mat, the Dalton boys cheering and their flags fluttering like flocks of red and blue birds.

"Want to tell me what all that was about with Kurt, Stuart Prefect?" Blaine muttered from alongside Logan.

"I'm not sure now's a good time to discuss this, Acting Windsor Prefect," replied Logan, and Blaine could hear the smile on his face. "Tell you what—you beat me and I'll tell you."

"Are we going to do this again, Logan?" Blaine asked coldly as he stopped at his en garde line.

"Only if you want to, Blaine," Logan answered casually, going to the other end. "You did lose last year."

Blaine gripped his sabre tight. _Don't let him get to your head, don't let him get to your head. That's what he did last year._

The crowd cheered and started to fall silent as the umpires now signaled preparation. There was a salute with respect measured to the most exact levels. "En garde!" The marks were on, sabres were raised, the two combatants tense. "Prêt!"

The Dalton boys held bated breath as Windsor and Stuart came down to a final five-point match.

"Allez!"

As soon as the signal went off, the metal clangs of the sabres filled the air. Between the two of them, Logan was the stronger one, but Blaine was faster. Though he could outstep Logan, the taller boy began bearing down on him.

Reed was biting his nails so much that they were starting to bleed—Kurt pulled them away from his mouth without taking his eyes off the match.

"Come on Blaine…" hissed David, watching their every move.

There was a thwip through the air and a sudden jab—and the bell went off. "Point!" A green block appeared on Logan's score column.

The Stuarts exploded into cheers, red flags waving. The Windsors looked frantic, yelling for Blaine to get him back for it. Wes cursed soundly under his breath but he yelled, "Come on, Blaine! Get him!"

The battle resumed—and Blaine, seemingly fueled by the taken point, now started to become a little less cautious in his movements and started his attack. The Windsor boys cheered on their support, Kurt clutching onto the rail so hard he was sure that his nails were going to chip.

Logan dodged the quick assaults and made to take his second point—until Blaine made a sudden forward maneuver with his weapon—swatting the other sabre away just enough to jab forward and land a clean hit directly to the chest.

"Point!" Blaine's green block lit and Windsor erupted into cheers amidst Stuart howls.

"Oh man!" David slammed his fist onto the barricade in excitement. The twins were jumping up and down like mad.

Blows were exchanged again, with Logan forcing Blaine back to his en garde line. By far, the bout was the most aggressive one that either Blaine or Logan had participated in and their exertion was obvious. There were a few calls of "Halt!" as they kept maximizing their eight sabre touches.

"Clock's ticking…" Reed bit his nails again.

At one point, Logan made a misstep and Blaine saw it—he dived forward and struck the taller boy in the shoulder. When his score block lit, Windsor went crazy. "I think I'm going to have a heart attack," Kurt muttered. "I haven't felt this scared since being a kicker."

The twins gave him an odd look, shrugged, then resumed cheering Blaine on.

Logan looked incredibly tense, and it had to be with rage. That was all his body language was saying. He had won his previous bouts cleanly, receiving only one hit at a time. Blaine had scored two. It was his turn to return the favor.

The clock continued to tick. Before the boys even knew what was happening, there was the smack of the sabres—Blaine's nearly went flying out of his hand—and Logan struck him full on the right side of the chest. The green block lit and Stuart erupted into cheers.

Panting, both combatants were standing apart again. "Last one, Blaine…" Logan whispered, not caring if Blaine could hear it or not.

"It's on, Logan," Blaine muttered as he flexed his wrist. Cheering reached a fever pitch and Kurt, leaning out, saw that if they didn't end it soon, it would go into a draw. And those two looked as though they would rather receive injury.

"Last one, Blaine, last one!" the twins called, clapping hard.

Stuart's cheer block was chanting in unison, overpowering the scattered Windsor cheers. Kurt felt a bit disoriented, but turned back to the pair.

The sabres went up again carefully, perfectly still. "Allez!"

One blow—two—three—four… Logan was forcing Blaine back again, moving faster now.

Blaine was pushing back, forcing them to the center again. Reed ducked under the barricade, not prepared to see this. In spite of all bounds of propriety, the Dalton gymnasium was going to blow with all the cheering.

The clock continued to tick as the two stopped for an instant—and then resumed with great speed.

Five—six—

"Come on, Blaine!" Kurt yelled from the stands, his voice drowned down by the crowd, but he didn't care—he couldn't watch him lose. Blaine's focus made a single flicker.

And Logan dived for the kill.

The hall screamed. Blaine saw the sabre coming at him and in a sheer moment of pure divine intervention, made the one half inch back that made the miss. He moved without thinking the next instant.

The bell sounded.

Windsor exploded, pouring out of the barricades in a single mass, followed by Hanover boys and day students. In a single body, the victorious Windsors launched themselves onto Blaine, knocking him clear onto the floor pinned mainly by Wes and David.

Kurt stood to the side, not willing to take part of the hysteria, with Reed next to him. Reed was elated, pumping a fist into the air in delight. Kurt was smiling broadly, clapping hard as he watched his friends struggle to help Blaine up from the ground.

Next to Kurt, Logan materialized, laughing softly and shaking his head. His hair was damp with sweat. He held out a hand to Kurt. "Congratulations on the win."

Puzzled, Kurt nodded and gave him his hand—which Logan squeezed for a moment and held onto for a full second longer than protocol allowed—before he walked to the rather disappointed Stuarts.

Kurt turned back to the others and saw Blaine standing free of the crowd going crazy in the middle of the fencing area. He had just been given his medal. Blaine laughed and walked to him, and he gave him a tight hug.

"Congratulations," Kurt grinned, patting his shoulder before releasing him. "That was quite a match."

"You nearly distracted me back there," Blaine admonished with a huge grin. "I heard you scream and it was so shrill I thought you were trying to hit a high F."

Kurt punched him on the shoulder, mouth open in shock, unable to believe he just said that, but he was too happy to really care. "Whatever, you won. You were _lucky_ I saw that. Logan totally had you."

"Yeah, I can't even remember how I did that," Blaine agreed with a grin.

"PARTY!" The twins were yelling from on top of the judges table. "PARTY AT WINDSOR, NOW!"

"Party?" Kurt demanded as the Windsors pulled him and Blaine apart and started pulling them along. "Don't we have practice? Sectionals?"

These went unheeded as the triumphant boys, all but carrying Blaine, made their way across campus back to their House.

* * *

_On the next episode: One weekend in Dalton never hurt anyone-at least, not seriously. That was what the twins will be assuring Kurt. The people back at home are getting a little worried, and Kurt isn't sure if he's prepared to have assess the living conditions in Windsor when they decide to see for themselves why Kurt would not come home._


	5. Cookies

_Hi, I'm C Coulter, your writer for this fic._

_I deeply apologize for the lateness of my regular update. I had arrived much too late from an event I attended. I had made sure to finish the chapter before I left, but I could not make the last revision and post until I returned. Again, I am grateful to those who enjoyed the last episode, and to all the kind commenters leaving wonderful words for me every day. Your support has been invaluable._

_I hope you enjoy this next episode. :)_

_(**I do not own Glee**-it is far too fabulous for that.)_

* * *

**Dalton**

**Episode 5: Cookies**

* * *

_Friday afternoon, late._

_Scene: Dean of Student Affairs Elizabeth Ramsey's office._

_Cast: Kurt, Blaine, Wes, David, Evan, Ethan, Dwight, Reed, House Head Howard…and Dean Ramsey._

_Situation: The declaration of an after party at Windsor came to effect shortly after arriving. _

_Party. _

_Windsor. _

_Doesn't usually end well._

_ ._

"So…"

When the dean finally chose to speak, the boys fidgeted—Blaine leaned back on his seat with a sigh, Kurt sank his head into a hand—as she walked behind her desk in front of them, seeming to take this into consideration. Kurt could read teachers' vibes, but while Dean Ramsey was registering absolute calm in his sensors, something was definitely brewing there. Her things were all packed up and she looked as though she were about to leave for the weekend, so if she took her time to gather them here right before leaving, then there was definitely a blip.

Finally she looked at them and sat down on her cushioned chair which barely made a sound as she did. She was a trim woman in her forties, married (the massive Tiffany on her finger was the indication), slightly on the heavy side with watery gray eyes and severely tied red hair.

Kurt had only ever been in her office once before—and it was on his first day of school, discussing his transfer, and living adjustments—and his impression of her was that she was absolutely unremarkable. Or so it appeared.

She folded her hands on the table, looking at them with an amazing poker face.

"You had a party."

David pursed his lips and looked to the sky in silent appeal. The boys looked awkward.

The dean continued. "And it, from all student accounts, seemed to have gone "pretty awesome"." She emphasized the last two words. She pursed her lips in a tight smile. "Well, Windsor House is rather popular for that, isn't it?"

Wes fought back a smile with great effort. Howard was a silent witness—he might as well have been a Christmas Island head with a body standing like décor on one corner of the office. His arms were folded, watching like a vulture waiting for dead bodies.

"And the party, I understand…was to celebrate Dalton's win on the fencing meet today." She smiled a bit more. "Oh, I'm sorry—it would appear that it was for _Windsor's _win, for Dalton, today."

All eyes flashed to Blaine for a moment. It was not lost on him, and he coughed slightly and straightened up a little, with the barest eyebrow raise at the insinuation.

Dean Ramsey was still smiling.

"Campus arrest."

Gasps of horror.

"For a school week."

"_What?_" Dwight choked—David elbowed him sharply to shut up.

"You may not go out of campus, you may not go anywhere other than school facilities, and your House."

The twins rolled their eyes and looked bored.

Dean Ramsey looked at them very calmly. "Any comments?"

"But—" Reed flustered.

"Why don't we go over this list that Mr. Howard has carefully prepared?" Dean Ramsey said with the same kind smile. He slipped on her spectacles and looked down at the sheet. "You apparently managed to bring to your House, enough punch to "float a speedboat", as the quantification is."

"It was _not spiked_," David said clearly, knowing that liquor of any kind was taboo on campus.

Ramsey nodded and moved on. "There was severe celebratory littering in and _on_ the House, which include but are not limited to, confetti, silly string, peanut butter, cake icing, feathers from your house cushions _and _Mr. Tamerlane's pet duck, tissue paper, glitter, paper airplanes, and what appears to be printed copies of the Stuart House class photograph with "in your face!" scrawled on them with permanent marker."

Kurt groaned softly and leaned his forehead into his palm. When you hear it like that, maybe the party was _not_ as awesome as it appeared compared to when you were participating in it.

"Piñatas, coconuts, sparklers, shooting roman candles (outside, at least), general revelry… Also, your sound system was blasting music that was heard all the way to the other side of campus."

Wes bristled. The "other side of campus" meant Stuart House, and no one doubted that, stinging after their champion's defeat, it was they who made the Ramsey call.

"I'm not even going to go into what kind of destruction of property went on within the house."

"We didn't _destroy_ anything," Blaine reported, mentally adding, _That wasn't already broken…or about to be replaced._

"The fact remains that this is _not_ the way Dalton Academy students should be behaving." Ramsey studied him. "We are a formal and distinguished learning environment and students should not be having parties with a decibel level a few degrees lighter than a NASA space shuttle launch."

She watched sat back on her seat, her folded hands still linked together. "And I am to understand that every Warbler in the House had conveniently forgotten that Mr. Harvey and Ms. Medel had a scheduled rehearsal at the second music hall."

Kurt closed his eyes in pain. He hadn't forgotten—_no one_ had. It was that the mass of boys, wild with adrenaline, had simply chosen to "overlook" it. He had only been a Warbler and a Dalton student for a week and here he was getting the axe.

"But since Mr. Harvey says that it can be glossed over for now owing to Blaine's splendid victory, it will not be counted as a strike against you."

Sighs of relief and heaving gratitude towards whatever higher power gave them their choir director and Blaine's fencing skills.

"Speaking of Blaine…" Ramsey turned her sights on him again. "You may be only the _Acting_ House Prefect until Charles returns, but until then I expect you to perform your duties as that prefect and make sure that this does not happen again. This should not have gotten out of hand _at __all__. _Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, Mrs. Ramsey," Blaine replied in a calm tone.

Ramsey looked at Kurt and Reed, the two least likely to have been responsible for any serious damage—Dwight already had a history, but it was for odder, generally harmless superstitious antics—and told them, "Kurt, you have only been here less than a week. I would like to not see you again for at least a _month_. Or at least that is how long it apparently takes Windsor to convert someone."

_I was converted since the morning after of the initiation_, Kurt just gazed nonchalantly in response.

"And Reed—you know how…awkward…you are sometimes. You should not be involving yourself in this and harming yourself any more than you already do daily, as the school nurse reports."

Reed stopped biting his nails. "…yes, Mrs. Ramsey."

"The sentence applies to all of you. Campus arrest. You may now leave."

The boys stood up with very minor mumbling. "Thank you for your time, Dean Ramsey," Howard said as he ushered the boys out.

As the boys exited into the hall, Kurt noted that none of them looked particularly distressed—except for Dwight and Reed, who were generally easily distressed—as this likely happened quite often.

"Well boys?" asked Howard sternly as they reached the entrance doors of the building. "Are there any further statements you would like to make?"

A terse pause.

"…that was a _great_ party, wasn't it?" Dwight finally said.

Kurt bit his lip to stop from smiling.

* * *

_I'm Kurt. And this is Dalton Academy._

_Just earlier this week, I became a Dalton student, a Windsor House boarder, and a Dalton Warbler._

_I discovered the people in Windsor were incredibly restless, but incredibly big-hearted as well. They've endeared themselves to me in spite of the fact that I want to strangle them sometimes._

_I wonder if anyone else ever got that feeling._

_

* * *

_

"Kurt…? What are you doing?" asked Reed as he walked into the large sunny kitchen the next Saturday morning. He had followed the smell of something nice baking.

Staring into empty space but hands still moving as he kept the wooden spoon stirring the mixture in the bowl, Kurt responded, "I tried to do homework it felt like trying to part the Red Sea. I only got through half before I felt like turning the table over… And since I can't occupy myself with planning and coordinating outfits for school anymore, I decided to bake cookies."

"You bake?" Reed blinked, carefully remaining on the other side of the counter and far away from all the utensils that might give him injury. He was being particularly careful today, Kurt noted, as the other boy was wearing suede gloves.

"Sometimes, when I feel like it," Kurt sighed. He put down the spoon for a moment as he threw in some more ingredients. "What happened to your ceiling here, by the way?" He gestured with a spatula to the huge jagged scorch above the stove and the over.

"Um…a little mishap when some people tried to bake a birthday cake…" Reed looked embarrassed. "Fortunately, the administration replaced the stove and the oven. If you're bored, why don't you hang upstairs in my room? We can look through some prints of the Armani show."

"Tempting, but—"

There was the sound of something heavy and wet falling upstairs with a flash and a deafening howl of anguish as feet started pounding down the halls, laughter ringing through the corridor. "Damn it, Evan!" yelled someone—who might have been David—spluttering.

There was a second splash and it was Wes who yelled incredibly colorful curse words that would make a pirate blush. The twins chorused, "Clear for this room!" before they ran off in search of more victims.

Reed saw Kurt giving him a highly-expressive raised eyebrow, and Reed finally understood why it wasn't a good idea to be upstairs. "Cabin fever and the twins, huh?"

"Water balloons," Kurt nodded. "They're hitting everyone in the hall. Dwight has taken to barricading his door. I don't know what he's blocked the door with, but it smells dead."

Reed looked ill. "So I decided to cover up the smell with some baking," sighed Kurt. He looked and felt tired. "I don't know how you manage all this schoolwork and Warblers, Reed."

"You just need to get the hang of things," Reed smiled kindly. "Don't be so hard on yourself." He looked to the side of the counter and saw a plastic bowl full of fresh chocolate-chip cookies. "Are those the finished ones?"

"Yeah," Kurt nodded as he finished placing a batch onto a tray.

"Ooh, chocolate chip!"

"Just trying it out. It was my mom's recipe."

Reed very carefully picked one up and inspected it with a grin, "You going to send some to her?"

"No, she's dead."

Reed turned shock white, whether it was from the news, the absolute bluntness or both. With his eyes wide, he dropped the cookie into the bowl. "Oh—I—I'm so sorry, Kurt, I didn't—"

"It's fine," Kurt popped up after he took the last batch out and the new one in. He gave Reed a quick smile. "It was a long time ago." He took off his mitts and motioned to the bowl as he began to clean up. "Have one."

"Are you sure…?"

"Go on, Reed, goodnessake have one." Kurt began to wash the mixing bowl with a sigh. He was going to be stuck here all weekend with a house that was like a bomb that could go off any time. He had told Mercedes that he was being kept in school for Warblers' practice and school issues, but he didn't go into detail and worried that she might have gotten upset.

Reed pulled the bowl close and took the cookie he first dropped said to Kurt, "…what was your old school like, Kurt?"

Kurt froze. "…why do you ask?"

"Just curious," Reed said, remembering the conversation at the bonfire, biting into the cookie carefully.

Kurt had so many flashbacks that he nearly overloaded. He just shook his head and smiled, scrubbing diligently. "I spent my time planning what to wear to school next and hanging out with my old Glee club. They're really great. Of course our director Mr. Schue really needed to get out of this time pocket he's in—it's still the 80s in there—and let loose a little, but that's how he is…"

He realized that Reed was quiet. He turned around and saw Reed standing there, a bite of cookie in his mouth, staring at the one in his hand. "You okay, Reed?" Kurt asked. He didn't receive a response for a moment. Finally, the smaller boy raised his eyes.

"Kurt…how many of these did you make?"

Kurt blinked and gestured to the other countertop—which had quite a few bowls of cookies—and then back to him and said, "Last batch is in the oven…" He looked at Reed staring at him and the way Reed was gripping onto the bowl he had. "…you can have that one if you want…"

Reed pulled the bowl close, staring at him with big eyes. "Could you excuse me for a second…?"

"Sure…"

And the boy tore out of the kitchen with the bowl, and he could hear his feet pounding up the stairs. Kurt stared, wondering what in the world just happened. He picked up a cookie and bit into it, and as he expected, everything seemed to be fine. Was Reed allergic?

He glanced up to the window. Everything looked bright in spite of it being rather cold. Maybe he just had to get out of Windsor and take in some air. He went around putting the cookies into a large Tupperware container. Everything outside Windsor was caught in the transition of Fall and Winter.

_Weird, _Kurt frowned as he thought he saw a speck of color fluttering past some bushes in the distance.

It looked an awful lot like one of Rachel's coats.

* * *

The knocking on David's door was so rapid and unceasing that he furrowed his brow and got up, hair still dripping. "If it's those two again, you better let me kill them, David!" Wes yelled from their common bathroom.

"If I leave any pieces for you, you can…" grumbled David as he reached the door and opened it. "What do you guys want _this_ time?" And he found Reed standing there, holding a plastic bowl and eyes huge. "Oh. What's the matter, Reed, did they get you too?"

"Eat this." And he all but shoved a whole chocolate-chip cookie into David's mouth.

"What are you—?" David choked and then stopped. He chewed and then looked at Reed, staring in shock. "…oh my—(swallow)—_whoa_—Reed…what is this?"

Reed just widened his eyes at him in an, "_I know_, right?" manner. David grabbed the bowl. "Give me that for a sec!"

"Hey!" the smaller boy protested, chasing him into the room.

"Who is it, David?" Wes came out of the bathroom in fresh clothes. David drew a cookie from the bowl and threw it to him. Wes caught it easily, looking at him as though he were crazy, said, "What the hell?"

Both Reed and David gestured to him urgently to eat it. Wes, looking at them suspiciously, now glanced to the cookie and said, "…you didn't make this, did you…?"

"Kurt did," Reed said breathlessly.

"Kurt?" David turned to Reed in surprise, and the smaller boy nodded as Wes took a bite of cookie.

There was a pause. "Whoa, holy—," Wes choked. He stared at the other two and saw David holding the bowl. "Hey, give me that!"

"No!" David ran out of the room with Reed and Wes following him.

* * *

"Gold Star to Streaks, can you hear me, Streaks?"

"Rachel…I'm right next to you." Tina made a face from where she was crouched next to her behind a large rhododendron bush. Mercedes rolled her eyes, "We're going to get into trouble for this. I don't think they allow girls in here."

"You guys just made me do a _basket toss_ over that rail fence," Santana snapped from where she crept near them. "A few inches higher, and I'd be trussed like a dead chicken. If I landed the wrong way, I would've broken my ankle _and_Coach Sue would've eviscerated me. You better be grateful I got you in here."

Quinn just sighed deeply and shook her head. "Why are we doing this again? Schuester's not going to be happy."

"We just want to make sure that Kurt's okay," Mercedes answered, shaking her head. "He sounded excited to be back home, and then out of nowhere he can't. And he wouldn't tell me why he's been campus-grounded. He says Warbler practice but there was something awkward in his voice. And he always has to get off the phone because someone's bothering him or something."

Tina look confused. "But I thought this school had a zero-tolerance on bullying?"

Rachel looked suspiciously around grounds. "We won't know unless we see for ourselves." A pause. "And if by chance we happen to watch the Warblers practice—"

"Mr. Schue doesn't want us to do that anymore…" Brittany blinked.

"And we might get caught," Mercedes raised an eyebrow. "Which makes me ask—why didn't we just send the _boys_ in? Say they're students?"

"Like Finn would be able to keep up an act like that—besides he wouldn't want to go," Rachel rolled her eyes. "And I don't think Dalton likes boys with mohawks so Puck can't either."

"Mike is out with his mom to some family reunion and won't be back for another eight hours," Tina sighed.

Quinn nodded slowly, "And Sam isn't around either, unfortunately. He might blend in. He did say he came from an all-boys school…"

"What about Artie?" Brittany asked.

"Couldn't get away fast enough if he got busted," said Santana.

"Whatever," Rachel waved it way, looking irritated as she crept down the bush. "This mission needs delicacy and finesse, and that's what we have." She peered over the corner and saw no one but the Dalton gardens. She frowned. "This place has a serious obsession with perennial flowers."

"Actually, I think it's because the gardens are prize-winning," Kurt said loudly as he came up behind them, raising an eyebrow. The intruders all jumped and turned around. He was still wearing an apron and a Tupperware full of cookies. The girls stared at him.

Kurt looked at them, eyebrow still arched. "What are you all doing here?"

"Um…" the girls stared at him.

Finally, Kurt rolled his eyes with a sigh and smiled. He held out the Tupperware. "Cookies?"

* * *

"Okay…what the hell are in these things…and why are they _this good_?" Wes asked while sitting in the common room, staring at his last cookie fragment.

"I have no idea," Blaine admitted, having consumed all of his. "I didn't even know Kurt could bake."

"Wow, for the _first time_, Windsor actually has someone with competence in the kitchen," David looked fascinated. "His Home Economics class must go by in a blur of As."

The twins just nodded, eating their own cookies with glazed expressions.

This was the aftermath of the cookie battle. While David, Wes and Reed were trying to take possession of the cookie bowl, Blaine had come out of his room to check if the coast was clear of water-ballooning twins. David had taken out a fistful of cookies and then threw the bowl at him.

Blaine, not nearly as frazzled by this than most people would have been, managed to get a cookie out before Wes grabbed it from him, and then Reed grabbed it back, and then the twins materialized out of nowhere (probably attracted by any confusion that they themselves were not causes of). They took the bowl and each got a piece before the nearly empty bowl ended up with Dwight.

Who had still not moved from where he was eating by the bay window.

"How can you _not know_ that he makes magic chocolate chip cookies?" Wes demanded at Blaine. "I thought you would've known nearly everything about him by now since you kept going back to Lima before he got here."

"I don't know everything about him," Blaine answered irritably. "I wish I did, but I'm not a stalker and I don't intend on making him tell me things."

"Did you know his mom's dead?" Reed asked softly. "He said this was her recipe."

Silence.

"…I'm eating haunted cookies?" Dwight asked in soft horror from the bay window. He ended up getting assaulted by a mass of sofa pillows from all the boys in the common room.

"Blaine, why did Kurt move here?" Ethan finally asked.

"Yeah, I mean…nothing against him or whatever, but you saw his house," Evan agreed. "He's not…uh…in the same tax bracket as us."

"_And_ he was in his old school's Glee club," said David, raising an eyebrow. "They were those guys on the phone during his audition. He was _singing _to them, Blaine. And all that stuff you said about him looking lonely and unhappy the first days. It means he misses them."

"So…if he really likes them…why would he just up and move here, costing his parents all that money?" Reed asked, brow furrowing. "I know the Warblers are amazing, but he doesn't look like the type to ditch his own team for a 'better' one." When Blaine remained silent, Reed added, "…is he in some kind of trouble, Blaine?"

All eyes turned to the Acting Prefect. Blaine closed his eyes and let out his breath, leaning forward from where he sat, resting his elbows on his knees.

"Kurt, he…" he began, and then stopped. He shook his head. "…I don't know if he'd want me to tell you this."

"Damn it, Blaine, just tell us," Wes snapped. "Hey look, we're his friends too. We _live_ with the guy, we like him, he's an amazing singer, he's one of us Warblers _and_ he's put up with our crazy for nearly a week and practically enjoys it! Far as I'm concerned, he's our new little brother. If he has problems, man, I want to know about it!"

"He moved here to get _away_ from those problems, Wes," Blaine said, looking hard at him.

"Then there should be nothing to worry about if you tell us, right?" David raised an eyebrow.

The twins turned identical pairs of piercing ice blue eyes at Blaine, silently requesting the same information. Blaine looked around at the common room, saw all of them staring at him and sighed deeply. "As long as you swear this _does not_ leave Windsor House. This _common room_. This is between all of us. Because more than _anything_, I want to protect Kurt. I can't have him hurt again. Do you understand?"

The twins looked at each other out the corner of their eyes. They were pretty sure that Blaine meant that statement, and that he _also_ wanted something a little more than that, but they decided now would not be the right time to point that out.

"Now tell us."

* * *

"Do you have any _idea_ how much trouble you're going to be in?" Kurt demanded as they walked up towards Windsor, feet trampling the damp earth. "Santana—seriously? A basket toss without a catcher? You could've _died_."

"So I told them," the brunette smirked, swallowing the last of her cookie.

"Well I'm not prepared to have one of you maimed while you're in here!" Kurt stopped and turned to them. "Look girls, I really _really_ appreciate you coming to see me, but I'm really all right here."

"Then how come someone's always yelling to you when we talk on the phone?" Mercedes demanded, raising an eyebrow. "Boy, you better _tell_ me what the heck is going on here—do I have to cut someone or something?"

"I just live in a really weird house, that's all," Kurt answered, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Kurt, you're baking," Mercedes said, raising an eyebrow. "You're trying to avoid something when you resort to baking."

"When I try to avoid something I stand in a corner…" Brittany murmured.

Kurt gave her a confused look, then said, "No, I'm avoiding the Mount Everest of homework sitting on my bedroom table."

Rachel put a hand on Kurt's arm. "Are you _sure_ that there is _nothing_ going on in here that you want to tell us about? Finn told me that you told Burt and Carole that you were really looking forward to coming back to Lima for the weekends and then right on Friday, you say you can't because of school issues. Is it really just Warblers' practice?"

Kurt looked at them all for a moment. "…yes."

"You're lying, I can tell," Santana smirked. "Is the reason you're not coming home is because you already found a boyfriend?"

Kurt colored to his scalp as Blaine's smile flashed into his head. And then the nagging thought of Logan's advances in the back of his mind. "I do _not_ have a boyfriend."

"Wow, Kurt, I have never seen you so red before," Tina remarked, smirking.

"Is it that guy Blaine, like I've always asked you?" Mercedes blinked.

"Who's Blaine?" Quinn asked.

"Cute gay guy he keeps hanging out with."

"Oh…" the girls began to grin.

"Look, you guys, just stop—okay?" Kurt said, flustered. "One, no, I don't have a boyfriend, it's not Blaine, two, no one is bothering me in this school, and three, I really _do_ just live in a crazy house. _Those_ are my school issues."

"How crazy are we talking about here?" asked Rachel suspiciously, arms crossed over her chest.

Santana scoffed, looking impatient and irritated. "It can't be that bad—are you saying you can't handle a house full of boys? I could."

"Okay look—they nearly got us all suspended, all right? Happy?" Kurt threw up his hands, pacing in surrender. "They threw a gargantuan party that went overboard and we all landed in the Dean's office and I'm _officially_ under campus arrest for the next school week. There."

He crossed his arms over his chest and shrugged with a sideways glance. "And for the record, no, there is no force on this planet that can control those nut jobs in there from what I've seen. You came all the way from Lima just to hear about me going overboard at a party, whoopee doo." He rolled his eyes.

"They don't do anything to you, do they?" asked Mercedes worriedly. "Is that why you didn't say that to us—or your parents?"

"No," Kurt said, holding her hands and smiling a little. "I didn't tell my parents because I didn't want them to think I was…well…with the wrong crowd. We just barely escaped by the skin of our teeth this time. But the truth is, while they may be borderline delinquent, they're all really nice guys. A lot of Warblers are in there, and they're all my friends—they seem to really like me. We look out for each other because we're Windsor boys and that's what we do. Apparently." He smiled. "And I'm kind of happy."

"Windsor boys?" Tina grinned. "That's what you call yourselves?"

"It's the name of the House," Kurt mumbled.

"Aww…" Mercedes gave him a big hug and a smile. "Our Kurt's a Windsor boy." Kurt laughed and hugged her back tightly.

"So do we get to meet these amazing guys while we're here?" Santana asked with a smirk. Quinn shot her a look and added, "Just so we know who they are."

"You all turned into such weird mother hens, did you know?" Kurt remarked, rolling his eyes. But he smiled and turned back to Windsor House, gesturing for them to follow him. "Come on but keep a low profile. It'll have to be really quick—we're not allowed girls in there. There aren't a lot of people here today, so maybe it's okay."

The girls giggled—except Rachel, who just grinned and crossed her arms—and trailed after him towards the large manor-like Windsor House. Mercedes made a gasp of awe when she saw it. "Whoa…"

"Wow, nice pile of bricks you got there!" Tina laughed.

"…you live in a castle?" asked Brittany, marveling. "Do you get to be the princess…?"

"I think that if they were given a chance, they would crown me as that," Kurt grumbled as he reached the door. He held his container of cookies under one arm and pushed open the doors. "Guys…?" he called as he stepped into the foyer, girls following, "Guys, are you in here?"

"Wow, this is a _big_ dorm," Quinn laughed, noting the Windsor banner over the hall.

Kurt frowned at the silence which was, in all respects, incredibly unusual at Windsor. "Hey, where are you guys?" he called.

He heard the sound of people acknowledging his call and then the common room doors burst open and the boys came flooding out, running to him, all talking at the same time.

"Kurt!" Wes ran up to him, a contorted expression on his face. "Kurt, what the hell—why didn't you tell us, man?"

David looked livid and concerned. "—if we'd known it was that bad, we would've gone over to Lima with Blaine and—"

"We want you to know that we are fully prepared to sniper down each and every dumb Neanderthal in that school that has ever slushied you—" the twins said fervently.

"—and what they said about your clothes!" Reed looked like he was almost at tears.

Dwight was the only one who noticed the girls staring stunned as this crowd of varied boys surrounded a very stunned Kurt. The self-styled spiritualist cleared his throat and said, "_GENTLEMEN!_ Ladies in the hall."

Silence. The group looked up. Tina blinked at the crowd almost nonchalantly and said, "…wow, Santana was so wrong, he's totally got them."

"Pardon?" David stared.

"They were just here to see who my new friends are," said Kurt, smiling a bit, still generally confused. "Um, guys, this is Rachel, Tina, Quinn, Santana, Brittany, and—"

"—Mercedes," Blaine finished, smiling as he took Mercedes' hands. "Good to see you again."

"Hi, Blaine," Mercedes greeted him with a knowing grin. She looked to the other girls. "This is the guy I mentioned."

The girls immediately brightened up and Kurt gave them a glare that threatened death if they decided to say anything. Kurt said to them, "Girls, this is Dwight, Reed, David, Wes, and the twins Evan and Ethan."

"Wow…" said the twins, looking at the girls in wide-eyed wonder like they had not seen any for years. "…talking flowers."

"That's so sweet…" smiled Brittany while Santana gave her a confused look. Santana caught Dwight's eye, grinned and gave him a saucy wink.

Eyes wide, Dwight backed up and raised his medallion defensively to Santana—"Whoa!"—who gave him a look that was both annoyed and downright grossed out.

Rachel stepped forward to Blaine importantly and extended her hand. "I'm Rachel Berry, I'm the lead soloist from New Directions. You must be my Warbler counterpart." Blaine raised an eyebrow and shook her hand as she continued, "I'd like you to know that we didn't come here to spy on whatever you may have planned for Sectionals—"

"You failed the first time," Wes grinned, glancing at Kurt, who just shook his head.

"—and that we were only here to make sure Kurt was all right." She looked at them and said, "Well it seems like it's all under control."

"I understand," Blaine nodded with a winning smile. "Don't worry, we'll take care of Kurt for you."

"Good." Rachel was smiling now.

Kurt stepped forward to the girls. "Well now that's done, you should all go before the House head comes by to check on us and finds you here. Then we'll _really_ get suspended."

"They can't stay?" The twins and Wes nearly whined to him. David elbowed Wes hard and muttered, "Shut up, do as he says, look at what he's got under his arm." He nodded to the large Tupperware of goodies.

"The rest of the cookies…" Reed breathed, eyes wide.

Kurt gave them his best disbelieving _"what is wrong with you people_?" look but just turned back to the girls, ushering them out of Windsor's doors. "You guys have got to promise me never to do this again," said Kurt, firmly. "It's moronic and completely ridiculous. And if anything happened to any of you—"

"We got it, we know," Mercedes smirked. The girls went out, going down the terrace steps and walking to the direction of the gate they had unlatched. Going last, Mercedes stepped out into the terrace and gave Kurt a quick hug. "Next time, just _please_ tell me what is going on with you? Because I told you, we still really give a damn. We tell each other everything. And besides…" She nodded back indoors where the Windsor boys were, " …they look like they want you to do the same."

Kurt glanced back and saw the boys staring at him looking a little concerned. He smiled a little, unsure, then looked back to his best girl friend, hugging her. "Right. I'll do that."

He kissed Mercedes on the cheek goodbye and waited until they were all definitely gone in the direction of the gate. He turned back indoors and closed the doors behind him, sighing in relief as he turned around.

They were still looking at him that way. Kurt's brow furrowed. "What?"

"Kurt—I know it doesn't count for much right now, but we really, _really_ wish you told us how you were being treated in your last school," David remarked. "If at any point we had known sooner, we would've throttled Blaine for letting it go on so long, but we also would've done something to get you the hell out of there."

"You told them?" Kurt looked at Blaine, who quickly walked up to him, saying, "They wanted to know, Kurt. They really did. They just wanted to know why you came here and why you fled your last school."

"And we wanted to know so that we could keep that crap from happening again," Wes said, frowning. "If we'd've known you have been advanced upon by force, we would never have let _Logan_ near you—he's the likeliest candidate for a do over of that."

"And we also would give you a little more space," said Evan.

"We do get too close to you," admitted Ethan.

Reed nodded. "We have to remember that you've gone through something and that we—"

"But that's just it, you guys," Kurt finally said, looking up at them, wondering what was wrong with them. "Don't you get it? You guys_ make me forget_. Everything you do around me, it _makes me forget_ all those things. I don't care if I want to strangle you afterwards, but the thing is, you guys would do a lot more help if you just keep being the way you are. I like you that way, believe it or not." He grinned. "I'm one of you now, remember?"

Blaine started to laugh, shaking his head. "If you like us the way we are… then yes, you definitely must be one of us."

The twins now cracked huge grins. "And this sappy moment now calls for—!" And they both gathered up all the other boys and sandwiched them into a very tight, uncomfortable and truly awkward hug that no one really liked but put up with for the sake of the moment.

"Right…" Kurt, getting crushed against Blaine, didn't seem to really mind all that much.

A long pause followed.

And then someone says, "Hey Kurt?"

"What?"

"…can I have the rest of these cookies?"

The burst of fighting and squabbling afterward just made Kurt jump back in surprise, and then he decided that he didn't even want to try and make sense of the hysteria any longer. With a sigh, he tossed the whole container of cookies at them—beginning another fight of proportions that could have eclipsed Lord of the Rings—and sighed as he went up the stairs to fathom his now truly weird life. And he had the rest of his homework to do anyway.

* * *

_On the next episode: Tireless preparations for Sectionals continue. Kurt succeeds in fielding his homework at long last. The House Arrest continues. But to some people, this only means that their prey won't be going anywhere. _


	6. Duels

_Hi, I'm C Coulter, your author for this fic._

_Once again, I would like to thank each and every person who has commented and expressed their appreciation of my little set of Dalton adventures. This really so much more than I could ever hope for and I'm grateful for all the support this fic has received. I am also grateful to those who enjoy my OCs of questionable sanity. But this one is dedicated to those who love Kurt and Blaine (and, surprisingly, Logan)-because they will, at long last, get some degree of progress._

_I truly hope that you all will enjoy this new episode. :)_

_(**I do not own Glee**, I will never own Glee, sadly.)_

* * *

**Dalton**

**Episode 6: Duels**

* * *

"Kurt." Blaine jogged his elbow with his. He was sitting next to him at central area of Kurt's room.

Kurt only mumbled a faint reply of acknowledgement from where he was trying to copy down some text into his notebook.

"Kurt, come on, are you still mad at me?" Blaine was starting to sound genuinely worried, prodding his arm. "You haven't spoken to me since yesterday."

Kurt just tsked in annoyance as he pushed off Blaine's hand from his notes, trying to focus.

"Is this because I told Wes and David and the others about what happened in Lima?" Blaine said, brow furrowed. "Look, I'm really sorry, I am. I shouldn't have told them, I know you wanted to keep it a secret. I _get_ why you're mad, but they swore to not let it get out, and they were all just so worried about you—and quite frankly, so am I. And I would rather have the rest of them looking out for you in at least _that_ direction, than—"

"_Blaine!_" Kurt finally said, forcing himself to remain absolutely calm even when his hair was about to stand on end. He grabbed Blaine's hands tightly and gave him a very painful smile and a forced laugh. "Blaine…I want you to look very carefully around my room…and _then_ tell me why you think I'm not talking to you."

Blaine stared, trying to not marvel at Kurt's soft hands, and then looked around the room. There were papers _everywhere_. A fresh printout was coming out of the printer on his desk. The laptop was still on and it clearly displayed a half-finished term paper. Calculus notes covered the coffee table and a huge world map was hanging over the edge of his bed. No less than four books were open on the coffee table. Kurt's lap was loaded with a heavy book and then his notebook. And nearly all of the mercifully fewer coffee cups that had raided the room that morning were now standing empty.

Blaine turned back to Kurt, who was still giving him a pained smile. "Did it give you a hint yet?" Kurt asked, in a way one would say to a five-year-old.

"Oh." Blaine nodded, pursing his lips together, finally understanding and feeling rather ridiculous. "Right."

"Good." Kurt rolled his eyes and turned back to his notes. After a beat, he said, "To be honest I _should_ be mad at you, and I very much _want_ to be mad at you… And because of pure distraction and interference, I should also be mad at the _entire house_ for making all this catching up on academics even more difficult…but I cannot. …as long as you really did mean well for it and don't intend on telling the world, I'm just too busy to actually have any emotion other than contempt for whoever designed this devastating curriculum."

"I can help you if you want…" Blaine said, smiling. "Get most of this out of the way before Warblers meeting."

"Don't smile at me like that, you're not winning me over that easily either."

Blaine just smiled even more. Without warning, he gave Kurt a tight hug that lasted a several seconds in silence. He leaned down to his ear for a moment, and murmured, "I have to go do something for Harvey, but I'll tell Reed to come help you and I'll catch up. Don't stress too much." Blaine smiled as he released him, rose and left the room, leaving Kurt staring wide-eyed at his wake.

_What the—? _he sat aghast, hands rumpling his notes. _What kind of a hug was that…? Friendly? Something else? And why?_

After a pause he shook himself out of it, groaning as he sank his head into his hands. Blaine's behavior (and just generally Blaine himself) had to be one of the things that distracted him the most in that house. He felt fortunate that he didn't have to room with him, or his grade point average would have plunged to hell.

_Concentrate, Kurt…concentrate. He's your friend. He says so. YOU say so. Just because he has the ability to unleash an Eden of butterflies in your gut by hugging you doesn't mean he should be distracting you._

The most chilling, high-pitched rendition of the Joker's laughter suddenly echoed throughout the House, causing Kurt to break out of his thoughts and, possibly, sending Dwight diving for the safety of his salt ring in terror.

Snarling, Kurt threw down his schoolwork and got up, stomping to the door and opening it just in time to see the twins screeching loudly down the hall with that chilling laughter, in highly detailed Joker costumes (one was the animated, one was the Dark Knight version). Wes and David were chasing after them as Batman and Nightwing respectively, pitching cranberry-juice loaded balloons with the respective insignias scrawled on them.

Kurt didn't even want to ask what was going on. Raising his voice to an angle calculated for distance, he yelled, "_If you guys don't pipe down for at least the next __**two hours**__, so help me, I'm going to __give__** all **__the cookies to__** Stuart House!**_"

Instant silence.

With a satisfied smile, Kurt slammed his door shut and returned to his school work.

* * *

_I'm Kurt. And this is Dalton Academy._

_I've been boarding in Windsor House with Blaine, Wes and David. And it's been anything but uneventful. Recently we had a party that nearly got us suspended. And I also discovered that Windsor had some serious problems with Stuart, one of the other Houses. _

_Especially Logan, who keeps sending me all these signals. I know almost nothing about him other than that he's really handsome, talented, and interested in me._

_My problem: Blaine is also all those things._

_Except that last part._

* * *

Everyone ended up in Kurt's room trying to help him get through his catch-up work. It was both welcome and unwelcome.

"You're getting it all wrong!" David snapped at Wes, who was trying to make out the theorem to be applied to one of the problems in Kurt's book. Both of them were still wearing pieces of their costumes. "You're not going to get the derivative that way! Give me that." He grabbed it and scrawled something in.

Reed glanced over his shoulder from where he was helping Kurt with his Arts assignment. He frowned at David. "Well that's not right either—it's the wrong formula altogether. It's _that_ one." He pointed to a mind-blowingly complex formula on the other page.

The twins, who were looking at the massive coverage of Literature term paper that Kurt was expected to complete, looked at each other and slammed the book shut at the same time. "We give up—who's your professor here?"

Kurt sighed, exasperated. "Murdoch is."

There was a hiss of pain from the whole room. "Why would Murdoch give him all this?" David demanded, looking at the nearly inch-thick section of the book that Kurt was expected to look into.

"He would hang a Windsor boy onto the rafters by the tie and _belt_ him if he could," Wes snorted, erasing his previous calculation.

"Why would he do that?" Kurt raised an eyebrow.

"He's got a bias for Stuart, since he's the House Head," David muttered. "He's always had this chip on his shoulder for us since we accidentally set fire to the chemistry lab." He saw Kurt's narrow-eyed expression and quickly added, "It was a _complete accident_, that time. We were almost absolutely sure that we had nothing to do with it."

The twins smiled that discomforting Cheshire smile again. "We may have measured out too much potassium nitrate for the assignment."

Kurt just rolled his eyes and turned back to his Art assignment. "Well, whatever he's got for you guys, he's giving it to me now. I guess I'll just have to show him I'm not intimidated." He turned his canvas to Reed. "What do you think?"

Reed grinned, observing the manner by which Kurt had water-coloured the people in his assignment. They looked like design samples. "You are going to be a _great_ fashion designer one day, if that whole Broadway diva thing doesn't work out for you."

"Coming from you, that's quite a compliment," Kurt preened, grinning at him.

"No seriously, Murdoch _can_ be intimidating," David warned, looking up from where he was editing one of Kurt's papers. "He's like a freaking male Agatha Trunchbull. I heard he once threw a boy out of the second floor window and into Tamerlane's hydrangea bushes."

"He didn't do anything of the sort," Reed replied, sniffing. "At best he _threatened_ to, and the said boy _had_ been disrupting his class unnecessarily by getting overly freaked out because they were being told to perform Macbeth."

"…who was this boy?" Kurt asked, with a sneaking suspicion.

"Dwight," they all replied.

"I knew it."

"See?" Wes burst out. "Proves Murdoch's Anti-Windsor campaign. Right there."

"_All_ of us cause anti-Windsor campaigns," Kurt grumbled, drying his paintbrushes. "We haven't exactly had an excellent track record when it comes to behavior. Well…at least I still have some of mine. The rest of you, however…" He glanced at them briefly before carefully wrapping his art assignment.

"Don't worry, we'll fix that," the twins cracked evil grins at Kurt, who cringed away from them. "Give us a few more days."

Kurt pushed away from them on the couch and went to sit next to Reed as though looking to stay with someone safer. "Yeah, he won't be good for you either," grinned Wes, making Reed look up. "Did Reed ever tell you about the incident with the cuckoo clock—"

"Wes!" Reed turned red, flailing at him.

"—or the time in the cafeteria with the diorama—"

"Shh!"

"—or that he hit himself in the nether regions with a cricket bat?"

Everyone in the room winced and hissed at that memory, and Kurt gave Reed a disbelieving look. Reed looked terribly scarlet, huffily prodding his own art assignment with a brush. "Well I can't help it if I'm just rather clumsy."

Kurt grinned at him and gave him a kind nudge, "We know that. Besides, you kind of make up for that by being so incredibly generous to me and being such a martyr to these guys." He nodded to the others. He threw a notebook at Wes's extended legs resting on the tabletop. "Feet _off_ my coffee table, please."

Wes groaned and sat up properly. "I swear, you're like Blaine when he's being such a priss…"

"Where is he anyway?" asked Kurt, looking around. "He said he'd be back to help me."

"Well he told me to come up here and help you for a bit, but he didn't tell me when he'd be back," Reed blinked. "He said he had to see Harvey."

"Probably about Sectionals," shrugged Ethan. Evan gave Kurt's head a gentle pat. "Don't you worry, little Alice. Your White Rabbit will be back soon."

Kurt swatted his hand away from his immaculate hair and said, "White Rabbit? What?"

"Isn't he?" Evan grinned. "When our White Rabbit appeared to you and showed you a glimpse of Wonderland, you followed and fell all the way down here with the rest of us."

Kurt rolled his eyes as the rest of them laughed, the others being used to whatever went into the twins' minds. He glanced to the clock and wondered if Blaine would be back soon.

* * *

The "White Rabbit" was late for that important date for good reasons, which the rest of the merry Windsor crew found out later that afternoon in the dining hall during lunch. The Hall was quieter since it was a weekend and everyone had gone home, but it was stocked with Warblers and the few scatterings of boys who chose not to go home that weekend for whatever reason.

David looked as though he wanted to just tear off his tie and toss it. Wes looked like he wanted to flip the table. The twins, sitting across them, were glaring malevolently at the gang of Stuarts on the other side of the cafeteria, and Kurt decided that he didn't ever want to be on the receiving end of those twin ice blue glares. He looked at Blaine and stated the only thing he understood: "What do you mean, duel?"

"Round two with Logan, that's what," Wes grumbled.

"What does that have to do with Warblers?" Kurt stared, confused.

Blaine sighed and lifted his head from his hands. "Every performance, a singer who wants to take one of the spots for a solo—or lead singer—will have to prepare a piece to perform in front of the rest of the group. It will be assessed by Harvey and Medel on whether it's acceptable or not. When there's more than one applicant for the lead, they will each perform first in private in front of the professors. They choose the two best. Then the two will "duel" performances, one after the other, in the Hall. Then the rest of the Warblers will have to vote."

"Well if it comes down to a vote, you would win, won't you?" Kurt smiled a little uncertainly at him. "Since they like you."

"It's not that easy," Blaine responded. "For one thing, I've been singing lead for a quite a few performances now. No matter how much the other Warblers like me, some of them might want to see someone else sing."

"Pfft…" Evan rolled his eyes. Ethan nodded sagely, "Ditto. If they wanted to replace you, someone would've dueled with you before this."

"Secondly," Blaine continued, "Choosing the lead in Warblers isn't about popularity. They all really _will_ select whoever had the most vocally superior performance. And to be quite frank, Logan _is_ really good. Even Wes and David have voted to make him lead back then during duels." The two glared at him, as though never wishing to ever speak of such travesties outside Warblers Hall.

"Then why has he never competed with you for solo?" Kurt asked.

Blaine shifted in his seat, leaning back with a sigh. "Because before I got my sets of leads, Logan had the lead for eight straight performances. Then…I guess he got bored and stopped asking for them."

"The immensity of his ego is equidistant to the dimensions of _Jupiter_," David grumbled, once again wiping down his side of the table—he cleaned when he was anxious. "It didn't matter to him that he was our strongest vocal in competition—if he didn't feel like it, he won't do a damn thing."

"Wes and David told me to go try duel the other boys for the lead after that," continued Blaine. "I beat them and Harvey was surprised to find me sufficient. And since then I've been singing lead."

Kurt looked over to the table at the other side of the hall, where Logan sat holding court with other Stuart boys. Logan glanced at him for a moment, threw him a small barely noticeable smile, and resumed talking with the other boys. Kurt turned back to the others. "…I had no idea he was like that."

"You can ask the other Warblers," Wes said seriously. "Logan really did just suddenly stop going for lead. And you know when we found out that he just felt like not going? Sectionals. Last year. Left us hanging. We couldn't compete, no lead soloist could replace him at the last minute because the _last_ second soloist—"

"Wes," Blaine's tone had a warning in it. Kurt blinked, looking from him to Wes, not understanding.

Wes' eyes flickered to him for a moment, then he just seemed to shrug and shake his head. "Whatever. Anyway, no one could replace him at the last minute. End of sectionals, end of going to Nationals. Harvey was furious. I thought he was going to expel Logan out of Warblers."

"But he didn't," Kurt raised an eyebrow. "He's still one."

"Yes, he is," David nodded. "Because we needed his pipes, maybe? I don't know. But he hasn't asked for a solo ever since. He didn't say anything either so we just stopped talking about it—because we might throttle him if we brought it up again."

"He's got quite a pair of balls to suddenly duel Blaine for one now at _Sectionals_," muttered Ethan.

"Especially since after he ditched, it was Blaine who saved our asses for the very next performance—the Fall Festival—he took over in _days_ what was supposed to be Logan's part," nodded Evan. "And since then, our dear White Rabbit just led the charge." He grinned.

Blaine squinted at him in a why-are-you-calling-me-that-again type of expression. He looked at Kurt. "Well anyway…that's the history of it… Now Logan's challenged me to duel. I've a preparing for my performance with these guys, but…I didn't know he was going to duel. I only found out this morning when Harvey called for us both in the Hall. It was just him and me going for the lead, so we both duel in front of the others this afternoon."

Kurt considered all of this and leaned back, crossing his legs elegantly with a sigh. "I guess it's not all sunshine and rainbows in Warbler Land, isn't it…? I didn't know you guys were so competitive."

"We can be, on certain things…" shrugged Blaine. He glanced over a Kurt with his eyes lingering over him more than he had thought he would allow himself to.

There was a crash at food area—Reed had tripped, over his own feet, it would appear, and was on the ground with a whole lot of food in his clothes and on the floor, hugging his knee which must have gotten hurt. Kurt quickly got up and ran to help him.

As soon as Kurt left, Wes leaned forward, eyes flashing. "Tell me that colossal asshat isn't doing this because he thinks it'll get Kurt's attention. Tell me that, Blaine, I'm begging you, because I'll have to kill him otherwise."

Before Blaine could speak, David added, "We all _knew_ you were going to be lead. We've been practicing Hey, Soul Sister like crazy all this time, and we have it down _perfect_ when you sing the lead. And then a mere two days before performance day, Logan challenges? He can't be that crazy."

"I don't know what's going on in his head," Blaine answered. But he glanced at Kurt, helping wipe Reed's clothes down. "…I don't know if it's about Kurt. It wouldn't make sense to make himself the enemy."

Oddly enough, the twins glanced at each other at this, a knowing look that meant volumes of information, but they remained quiet. Blaine was oblivious. He continued, "But you know the rules. Lead isn't placed down in stone until the day before performance."

"Screw the rules!" Wes snapped. "We're talking about our first Sectionals in two years!"

"Wes, shh!" David hissed as Kurt and Reed approached. David looked at Blaine. "Let's just kick his ass later today, all right?"

"Yeah," the twins nodded, grinning at Blaine. "We've got your back."

When Reed and Kurt sat down, Reed looked distressed, but not about his fairly common injury. "Blaine. I heard from one of the other Warblers that you're dueling with Logan. You ready?"

"As I'll ever be," Blaine nodded, folding his hands on the table. He glanced at Kurt, who just smiled at him and said, "Go get him, then."

* * *

"All right, everyone…" said Sylvia the moment all the Warblers had sat back down onto their places among the couches when they finished the normal rehearsal. Everything had gone flawlessly (Reed didn't fall off the ledge a single time)—which now only left the battle for the lead. They had practiced this routine so many times that everyone knew what the lead was supposed to do or sound like, but there were few who could stand in the light among their unit.

Sylvia looked at everyone. She knew they knew what was coming up, because they were not talking excitedly about Sectionals or other things. She herself knew that this was quite the critical battle, between two of the Warblers' best, who also happened to be the two most high-profile.

She smiled a little and said, "Now… We have two candidates to duel for the lead. As is our rules, they will each perform a song before you. After which, we would take an anonymous vote. Mr. Harvey and I will count the votes, and announce who takes the lead."

The two teachers never reveal how many votes each got, mainly so there would not be any conflicts between the Warblers about who the group seemed to "favor" more. But the teachers were held in such high regard that there was no Warbler who believed they would ever rig a vote to choose someone who they wanted instead.

"Our two duelers are Blaine…" Sylvia gestured to Blaine, who stood amidst clapping, "…and Logan." Logan rose and was also received with the same amount of applause.

Sylvia pushed up her glasses and held out a velvet bag to Blaine and Logan, who came forward. The two each drew a marble out of the bag. Logan's was red. He would go first. Blaine nodded to Sylvia and Logan and returned to his seat with Kurt, Wes and David.

"Let's see what he's got after all this time," David muttered.

Kurt said nothing. In spite of himself, he was worried. He _had_ sung with Logan before that time in the Hall, and there was no indication that Logan's talent had diminished in spite of his inactivity as a soloist. Blaine sat next to Kurt with no decipherable expression, watching Logan carefully as he approached the piano. As was allowed, Logan had three other boys for backup with him, two Stuart boys, and one Hanover.

After a moment, Logan began to play. The melody was familiar, but mellowed out by the piano. It took the other boys a moment, but Kurt—with his ears still heavily tuned in to Will Schuester's music preferences—immediately recognized what was happening.

Logan, in a clear tone that magnetized attention, began to sing with no urgency:

_I could stay awake just to hear you breathing_

_Watch you smile while you are sleeping_

_While you're far away and dreaming…_

The Warblers watched in polite silence, carefully listening. Mentally, however, the Windsor boys' reactions were varied, with only hints of the emotions on their faces:

**Reed**: (Impressed) …_Wow, I didn't know you could sing Aerosmith like that. _*leans forward a bit*

**David**: (Bothered) _Oh crap, I can't believe he can still actually sing like that. _*splays fingers on face*

**Twins**: (Confused) *glance at each other* _He's good all right, really good but…why Aerosmith? Was Armageddon on cable yesterday? _

**Blaine**: (Stunned-White) _He's not singing that to Kurt, is he?_

**Kurt**: (Stunned-Red) _He's not singing that to me, is he?_

**Wes**: (Disturbed) *shifts in seat* _Oh man, if he's singing that to Kurt, those are some truly creepy lyrics._

_I could spend my life in this sweet surrender_

_I could stay lost in this moment forever_

_Where every moment spent with you is a moment I treasure…_

Everyone else seemed to be having no problems with this. Quite a few Warblers looked at each other with small rather impressed smiles, nodding slightly.

Logan glanced briefly to them with a small smile.

_Don't wanna close my eyes, I don't wanna fall asleep_

_'Cause I'd miss you baby and I don't wanna miss a thing_

_'Cause even when I dream of you the sweetest dream would never do_

_I'd still miss you baby and I don't want to miss a thing_

Blaine sank his head into his hand for a moment, cogitating about this whole performance. The Warblers were all about turning a song into something else with their vocals, and Logan fit the bill entirely by changing the rock song to something tamer and more ballad-like. The smallest sigh of contemplation left his lips for an instant.

And then he felt a warm hand close over his from under the table where they sat.

Blaine froze and very slightly looked to his right. Kurt wasn't looking at him, he was steadily watching Logan without batting an eye, but it was his hand that held his. No one could see—they sat near the back and so the backs of the chairs and the other boys obscured it from sight—and Kurt was simply holding his hand.

A silent encouragement.

Kurt glanced to him a little, and gave him a faint smile, before turning back front.

_I don't wanna miss one smile, I don't wanna miss one kiss_

_I just wanna be with you, right here with you, just like this_

_I just want to hold you close, feel your heart so close to mine_

_And just stay here in this moment for all the rest of time…_

That was it. Logan had looked directly at Kurt that time. To all the others it was in passing, but Kurt knew that glance when he saw it. Kurt lowered his eyes, heat spreading into his face. His heart was in his throat and he wasn't sure of what to do or even feel and it was even worse now than ever.

It wasn't like when Finn pointed out to him during the wedding reception and had him dance with him. This was different and somehow more intimate than screaming it down the hall. When someone sings a song like this, it meant something. Something that Kurt—no matter how much he wanted it he was even in Dalton—was not prepared for.

Especially with when he a certain person right next to him.

Blaine squeezed his hand slightly. Kurt looked up at him. He just nodded, as though telling him to just breathe. It was going to be all right. The song was ending, and Kurt and Blaine let go of their hands at the same time.

At the last chorus, the song ended. The Warblers applauded, many of them smiling at Logan. The tall boy at the piano rose and smiled slightly, looking for the whole room as though he was vindicated. His eyes located and met Kurt's. Kurt was smiling at him a little, clapping along with the rest of them. By the tint of red on his face, he knew his message had reached him.

He saw Blaine standing next to him. But Blaine was just smiling with nothing behind it. There was something he had that Logan didn't.

"And now," said Sylvia with a smile. "We have Blaine."

Reed and Kurt nodded good luck as Blaine, the twins, Wes and David then went up to the front. There were some cheers and catcalls from the Warblers as their current lead singer now made it to the front. "Let's go for it," David smirked.

To Kurt's surprise, while the other boys took positions, Blaine picked up a guitar. "He can play guitar…?" Kurt said, surprised.

"Yes, guitar," grinned Reed.

Kurt colored scarlet, leaning forward a little in his seat. Reed looked at his friend and laughed to himself—Kurt was clearly smitten and it would do everyone in Windsor a big favor if he and Blaine just came out with it. And then he looked up and saw Logan not even watching Blaine. He was looking at Kurt. Reed fidgeted, uncomfortable at the sight, hooked his elbow onto Kurt's in a show of protective camaraderie and just grinned with him as they watched.

Blaine stood before them and started playing with a gentle strum. The boys looked interested, sitting forward. Blaine started to sing his own spin on a song, starting out slow in acoustic rhythm:

_I shouldn't love you but I want to_

_I just can't turn away_

_I shouldn't see you but I can't move_

_I can't look away…_

Reed's mouth dropped in amazement, stifling back a laugh. He knew that song, and from the way Blaine glanced twice at Kurt while he played, he was singing to him too.

Blaine's acoustic manner took the song over, the lyrics taking strong prominence with his expressive voice. He made it his own, that song. Kurt sat listening, surprised as Blaine continued growing stronger but never quite losing his own even way:

_And I don't know how to be fine when I'm not_

_'Cause I don't know how to make a feeling stop…_

In a noted strum, the other boys accompanied him in the chorus.

_Just so you know_

_This feeling's taking control of me and I can't help it_

_I won't sit around, I can't let him win now_

_Thought you should know, I've tried my best to let go of you_

_But I don't want to_

_I just gotta say it all before I go_

_Just so you know…_

The Warblers were grinning. They had heard Blaine strum the guitar before, mainly while they weren't practicing, but he had never quite performed like this. It didn't sound like the old song—Blaine's acoustic transformed it with his style just like he did to Teenage Dream. Logan was leaning back on his chair and watching with immense interest, almost proud, the way a combatant would when finding a worthy opponent.

Blaine sang with no inhibitions, letting the music do its work and his voice express everything he wanted to pour out into the words.

_This emptiness is killing me_

_And I'm wondering why I've waited so long_

_Looking back I realize_

_It was always there just never spoken_

_I'm waiting here...been waiting here…_

Kurt sat shell-shocked, scarlet all over his face. If he hadn't already been so sure before, he was now positive that the song couldn't be meant for him. …or was it?

That was just it with Blaine, wasn't it? He never knew. But even as he listened, leaning forward, hearing the words, he wished. He wished really really hard—that it was for him.

Blaine's warm eyes met his for a fraction of a moment. It made Kurt smile.

_I can't believe it_, he thought, almost in dismay. _…I think I just fell for him._

It was the most unusual feeling in the world, Kurt realized. Everything and nothing made sense for a minute, going everywhere, and then suddenly, gone. One blown out match. He looked down at his hands feeling as though on the inside, everything had gone dead quiet. After all this time, he finally realized that he had truly fallen for someone. When he admitted it to himself, the locks flew open and let all the other awkward, unsure, emotions out, leaving that admission inside. He finally had that room breathe, in that small moment. He let out his breath.

He looked up at Blaine, who had finished his song. The Warblers burst into applause, smiling at him.

Kurt also smiled, clapping. But he couldn't look Blaine in the eye anymore. He kept his eyes down, afraid of that the realization was so fresh that Blaine would see with just one look.

"Kurt, are you okay?" Reed laughed. "Were you _that_ moved?"

Kurt glanced at his friend and smiled. He didn't know what would happen later, or tomorrow, but right now at least, he knew one absolutely true thing, and that was all that mattered. "…I think so."

* * *

Sylvia and Greg stood in front of the group assembled.

"We have tallied your votes," Harvey said.

The Warblers stood with bated breath. Sylvia looked at Greg with a nod, and Greg said, "Both of them did well. But we need only one lead for this performance, and there are no solos."

They nodded, understanding. Sylvia smiled quietly.

"For this performance, our lead singer is Blaine."

"YEAH!" The Windsor boys leapt into the air as the Warblers cheered. Logan also applauded, nodding with a smile. He accepted this defeat. He glanced at Kurt, clapping so hard that he was becoming breathless. Logan knew what that look was—he himself had that look before. But he also knew that he had a pocket of time. While the other boys swarmed at Blaine, Kurt remained at a safe distance, as though afraid to breach a circle.

Logan smiled. _Lost this one then, Blaine. But I still have time. I'll just have to catch up_.

* * *

"That was _close_!" Wes choked, clutching his breath. "Man, I bet it had been _that close_!" He gave Blaine a heavy pat on the back, nearly making the other boy buckle as they headed back to the House. Everything was dark out now, nothing but the leafless trees printed against the navy sky empty of stars. It was turning colder these days.

"Yeah, man, he put his own spin on an Aerosmith song and he was _good_," David shook his head. "Even I started to get worried. Damn close."

"I bet you guys had a one-point difference," Reed grinned mischievously.

The twins cracked grins and looked at Kurt immediately. "Who did you vote for, Alice?" they chorused.

Kurt turned deep red, cold hands in his pockets. "You know I voted for Blaine, why do you have to ask me that?"

Blaine smiled at him. "So you liked it?"

"Yeah," Kurt smiled briefly at him. Blaine noticed how Kurt was avoiding his eyes and felt confused. "Are you okay?" he asked.

"I'm fine," Kurt answered with another quick smile. "Really. Just…just tired, I think." _I had no idea falling for someone was so __**tiring**__… how do Quinn and the rest of them do it? _

"Are you sure?" Blaine asked, that worried expression still on his face. "Because you…you're not really looking at me."

Kurt let out a shivering breath. _Courage… _He looked at Blaine and smiled, longer now. "How about this? Better?"

Blaine smiled a little. Something still seemed off, but for now it looks as though it was still okay. Kurt was flushed with the cold wind whipping his face. Blaine thought he looked beautiful.

Hanging from the upper balcony, Dwight was screaming at them as they approached the house. "_What took you? Who won?"_

"We did!" yelled Wes and David, grinning at him. The twins pumped their fists into the air. "Blaine did great!" Reed called back.

Dwight looked at his crystal ball in his hand in disgust. "Man, this thing sucks. It told me we'd lose!"

* * *

Greg headed to the Teachers' Quarters. Sylvia looked amused. "That was interesting…"

"You think so?" said Greg, a little bit more anxious. "Doesn't it say something about how the group feels about Logan? The votes say it all. Blaine won by a _landslide_. Speaking as a teacher, he had tied with Logan in skill, but the win by vote was a tremendous margin."

"I doubt it's about last year…" Sylvia commented. "Maybe they just really do want Blaine for lead singer." She paused. "Song was an odd choice for Logan, though. It's not his general style."

"I know, the last time he made drastic changes, we had quite a few problems," Greg murmured. "I start to question my own decision to retain him. It was simply that he has so much promise. And don't think I don't hear the news. That savage fencing final with Blaine. I don't want it to be another fiasco like last year."

"Relax, Greg," smiled Sylvia, the mother hen. "The boys will work it out, just like they did last year. They have their own choices to make and they've made the right ones so far."

"Including Logan? Sylvia, I'm not prepared to lose another singer like that. And Kurt, our first countertenor in twenty years, is in the front running for second soloist. If anything else comes up we might not have that advantage anymore…"

"When do we make that official, by the way?" Sylvia blinked.

"He'll have to duel for it. If he wants a lead position, he'll have to fight for it like Blaine did."

The elegant woman grinned. "From the looks of him? _And_ as a Windsor? I'm sure he will."

* * *

_On the next episode: **Sectionals**._


	7. Sectionals

_Hi, I'm C Coulter, your writer for this fic._

_The last "episode" received quite a bit of appreciation, and for that, I am truly grateful. I read and appreciate all of your comments and praises and it is really far more than I expected. I can only continue to hope that you all continue to enjoy this series as much as you have now._

_A word: We all are aware of how Sectionals turned out for everyone. A large chunk of debate that went on after this, about whether or not they should have tied, should have not, or even if the Hipsters should have won. I have given this story the result which I had expected well before I saw the episode, which was precisely the result that had taken place. I terms of this small universe I have created, I had my own reasons for expecting the tie._

_Secondly, I truly thank and love all of the people who like my OCs. I would gladly defer to your suggestions and recommendations, but the truth is, my hands are tied by my own characters. I merely write down what I see them doing in my head, and not even I know for certain what they would really do until they become black and white text. _

_I am truly indebted to the people who have promoted my little piece to other sites (tumblr, livejournal, gleeforums...), and hope that everyone will enjoy this episode. :)_

_(**I do not own Glee**.)_

* * *

**Dalton**

**Episode 7: Sectionals**

* * *

Walking down the school's hall by himself, Blaine pulled out his Blackberry from his pocket and saw that the text message came from Kurt.

_Sorry, Blaine—I can't go to lunch with you today. –K_

He found this odd. Usually, there was a reason that accompanied a turndown—and the lunch turndown itself has never happened before at all. He _had_ been distant since the duel. Feeling something was amiss, Blaine tried to call Kurt back. He stopped when he heard it ringing, not from his phone, but from somewhere down the corridor.

Brow furrowed, Blaine followed the sound. It led him to the Warblers' Hall. The door had been left slightly ajar. "Kurt…?"

He walked up to the door and opened it—and came to a dead stop.

The phone was ringing ignored on the piano. Kurt was pressed to the far wall with Logan holding him there as he ravaged the shorter boy's mouth in a kiss that could've set the room on fire. Breathing hard and flushed, Kurt's uniform was already a mess, buttons popped and tie on the ground. The small moan he let out only seemed to make Logan more forceful as he all but devoured him completely.

They were so caught up that they didn't even notice him. Blaine fell backwards onto the door, choking in shock.

* * *

And he woke up with a strangled gasp.

Coughing hard, he blinked into the darkness, confused, before he started groping for the bedside lamp. It switched on immediately in a warm glow. Blaine's heart was pounding so hard, he could feel it in his throat.

A nightmare.

With a groan of relief and pain, Blaine slid back onto the headboard, arm draped over his head. Next to him, on the side table, the clock happily declared that it was around four AM on Sectionals Day. Hardly an auspicious start to the day.

_What the hell is wrong with me…? _he wondered groggily, rubbing his eyes. _My subconscious is trying to torture me._

"…Blaine?"

He nearly banged his head on the headboard when he jumped at the sudden voice. It was Kurt's voice. And Kurt himself, wearing pale blue pajamas, was standing in socks, looking worried.

"What…" Blaine was confused for an instant—until he remembered that Kurt _had_ slept there. And so did David, Wes, Evan, Ethan, Reed, and a few other Warblers. The night before, they had all gathered in Blaine's room (as they usually did) to marathon the Harry Potter movies. Then all the boys brought their pillows and blankets into the room, and lay to sleep there, presumably so they would all wake up together the next morning for Sectionals.

Kurt was one of them. The said boy now sat down at the side of his bed, concerned. "I…I thought you were in trouble or something. You woke up with that choke and... Are you all right…?"

That Kurt looked like an angel illuminated by the soft lamplight at the edge of the blackness of the rest of the room was something Blaine was deeply grateful for after that dream. He pinched the bridge of his nose a moment and sighed. "I'm fine, it was just…just had a nightmare."

And was it ever a nightmare. Blaine just rubbed his eyes and said with a halfhearted gesture, "I'm all right. I'm sorry I woke you."

"You didn't, actually," Kurt smiled.

"Oh…?"

"Yeah…" Kurt smiled wryly. "Our dreams really suck tonight."

"What did you dream of?"

Kurt hesitated. He looked down at the bedsheet for a moment. When he didn't answer, Blaine nudged the hand on the bed with his own in prompting. Kurt sighed. "…I dreamt I couldn't get out of the McKinley locker room…and Karofsky was there. It was like a splatter movie, he was just coming at me, or something. Then I woke up."

Blaine sat up. That hand on his bedsheet had white knuckles. "Kurt, how long have you been awake?"

"…half an hour."

_Well compared to my dream, that's...worse… _Blaine thought with a bitter slick. Blaine had a nightmare out of what might have been jealousy or insecurity; he wasn't afraid to admit it. Kurt had a nightmare out of emotional trauma. He opened his arms. "Come here." He pulled Kurt to him and hugged him.

Kurt just sighed and hugged pack, patting his shoulder. He didn't quite let go or pull away, and so Blaine didn't let go. After a few moments, Kurt asked, "…so what did _you_ dream of?"

Panic. Shame. Fear. All three emotions in one go was rather distressing, and Blaine pulled away a moment. He scratched his head and said, "Well…wasn't anything like yours."

"Like what?"

"Let's just say it's something I never want to happen. Or at least…I never want to _see_ happen…"

Kurt smiled sympathetically and pulled him into a hug again. "Was it really bad?" he asked, chin on Blaine's shoulder.

"Incredibly," Blaine agreed with a wry smile, enjoying the moment while he had it.

"Our subconscious really sucks."

"Yup."

Kurt seemed thinner than before. It must have been the combined forces of the last days at McKinley, the big move, the homework, the stress and the aggravation of Windsor. Blaine felt a stab of guilt. He had told himself he would take care of Kurt, but the evidence would suggest that he had not done so very well.

After a pause, Blaine murmured, "…why wouldn't you look at me last night?"

Kurt froze—he felt him do so. Blaine kept holding him, saying, "I'm not trying to rush it out of you. I just…I'm just a little worried. You acted differently and…"

…_and it was like you heard my song and you knew it was for you—and you didn't like what you heard. Just like with Logan's song when you seemed frightened. _

Kurt didn't answer. He just carefully put his arms around Blaine tightly. "…Blaine…can I not…tell you the answer right now?" His fingers trembled. "Please?"

Blaine closed his eyes. _Anything you want, as long as you don't tell me you hate me for what I did. I don't know why I did it so recklessly. Because Logan had pushed me? He was pushing me back to the line, like he did in fencing. And if I didn't fight back, I would lose. And I can't lose this one._

He nodded slowly. "All right…take your time…" he looked at him now, and smiled. "Hey…don't look so worried. Everything's all right. It's Sectionals today."

"Hardly a comfort," Kurt managed to quip, smiling a little. He turned away from Blaine again, unable to look him in the face. He picked at stray threads on the comforter. Why was it that after the duel, he could still look up at Logan in spite of the song? Why was there a double standard that froze him in his tracks when it was Blaine?

_Because you love Blaine, but you don't love Logan?_

Maybe Kurt had held Blaine's hand during Logan's song because he was afraid of what he would feel if he let Logan in. He had to have _something_ for Logan, that was sure. All those advances were open that only an utter moron would not notice. And while it was incredibly flattering and did, in some guilty, distant way, made him feel good, he had fled from it. Because Logan, for all his points and flaws, was simply just not the one he wanted.

Blaine never advanced like that before. He was always on the defensive. He would do little things, like hugs, nudges and if at any time he was frightened, he was able to hold his hand to calm himself. He was the protector and that was obvious. From where he stood, Blaine really did make it seem as though he was purely meant for that capacity.

That duel performance was the tiny key on the glass table. It opened up a whole other door—it gave him a glimpse of what it could be—if Blaine felt the same way. That was what Kurt had fallen for. The idea that he could love Blaine and that maybe, Blaine could feel the same. But right now, with everyone having their shields up—with all of Dalton's rules of propriety, unspoken battle lines, competitive matches and friendship ties—he had no way of knowing if what the "White Rabbit" had shown him was the truth, or his imagination.

_In the end_, Kurt sighed, _…I'm just as afraid of Blaine as I am of Logan. _

He had two choices. Logan was willing and all but forcing it—he could let Logan in and see for himself what happens if he followed him down that direction. He might love him, hate him, or just up being perfectly civil…

…or he could stay following Blaine, the one who first showed him the way, and pray not to end up losing his head and heart to him while he tries to find out if it what was between them was a dream or reality. With everything standing at the very edge of platonic, it was a risk he had to be willing to take.

_What do you do when the person you run to with your problems is one of your problems…?_

"Stop running."

Both Blaine and Kurt looked up in surprise. Dwight was not a Warbler, but he insisted on being in the party to defend them against anything bloodsucking and venomous that might be attracted by a group of souls gathered conveniently in one room for them to victimize.

Right now, Dwight was soundly asleep in an awkward position draped over the beanbag chair, his body arcing over it. He sniffled and rolled over, mumbling, "Stop running…walk by yourself and figure it out…"

_What…? _Kurt stared.

Dwight snored. He rolled over again and fell off the beanbag with a loud thud—but kept snoring.

Blaine and Kurt looked at each other, and then started to smile. Blaine laughed softly. "He's got sleeping issues. I didn't want him to sleep here because I was afraid he'd wake the boys…"

Kurt smiled at Dwight almost affectionately.

_Stop running, huh? _

Incidentally…that took some "courage" too…

* * *

_I'm Kurt. And this is Dalton Academy._

_The day before yesterday, Blaine and Logan dueled for a solo. Blaine won, but when I left that room I felt different. Being sung to by two different guys with two different functions in your life has a way of doing that to you._

_Today is Sectionals, and everyone is tense. I'm going to go against McKinley, and that makes it worse._

_The pressure is everywhere. I'd want the mayhem back instead, but it appears that it just took a different form._

* * *

"Dwight kicked me last night! In the shins! _Twice!_" Wes snapped at David as they boarded the large tour bus that Dalton used for all its students' off-campus activities. It was morning, the sun was beating down golden rays onto the mass of Warblers that prepared to board and the students who cheered them on. "I swear, David, if I can't walk properly today and we lose because I made a misstep, I'm going to ship him to the Amityville house. I knew we shouldn't have let him sleep over there!"

"And he talks too much in his sleep," David grumbled, rubbing his eyes as he took the seat next to Wes. "He told me he was dreaming about playing Sonic the Hedgehog and he couldn't get to the next level because Sonic wouldn't stop running."

"He needs to be checked for _drugs_."

"We checked," the twins mumbled from the seats behind them. "He was clean. So he's just pure loony."

Kurt stumbled down the aisle, looking a little more disconcerted than his usual self. Reed waved to him from a window seat to catch his attention. Kurt saw him, immediately walked all the way to the back to them and took the seat next to Reed.

The smaller boy blinked. "You okay? Not going to sit with Blaine today?"

Kurt just shook his head, smoothing out his best blazer and making sure his pants weren't creased. "Just wanted some time to think."

Reed studied him carefully. He leaned to him and murmured. "…about…Blaine and Logan?"

Kurt looked at him. Reed's face split to an adorable smile. "It's kind of obvious, Kurt. To me, anyway." He turned to him fully. "You know this is not about them, and that it's really about how you feel? This time is yours now. You have to be happy—because if you're just troubled, you'll make the wrong decision." He shrugged. "And they don't want that either."

Kurt stared at him. His eyes misted up. And then he grabbed Reed into a tight hug. "Ow!" Reed cried, laughing. "You're crushing my ribs, Kurt!"

"Sorry." Kurt laughed, wiping his eyes a little.

Reed grinned. "It's Sectionals, Kurt. What we've all been waiting for, working for. It's time to push all that aside for at least today—and just have fun." He stopped. "Kurt, _why_ are you wearing that hideous lapel pin? Give me that!"

"Hey! I _liked _that one!" Kurt protested, trying to grab it back as Reed held it away from him.

"It's from last year's line, Kurt, don't be ridiculous. Ow!"

"See? Now you've stabbed yourself with it. Give it back."

* * *

Blaine couldn't sit with his friends. He had to sit in front with Harvey, Medel, and Logan, the designated second soloist. It was purely a decorative title, because Blaine had no intentions of suddenly developing severe illness that would prevent him from being onstage.

Harvey didn't like the boys making noise in the bus en route unless they were singing, and Medel happily conducted the boys into their warm ups as they went on their way.

Sitting next to Logan promised to be an exercise in patience. Blaine had mountains of it, after living in Windsor. But it looks like it was all for naught, as Logan merely gave him a cool smile, turned to the window and remained silent for the ride.

Blaine's phone vibrated.

_You all right up there? Logan not giving you problems? –Wes_

And then a follow up: _Aside from the obvious, I mean? _

Blaine smiled faintly and responded: _Logan's quiet. So am I. We're not talking to each other. Focusing on Sectionals. –B_

_If you say so. –Wes_

From the twins:

_Saw you and Kurt making out this morning. –E&E_

Blaine colored to his scalp and furiously texted. _We were NOT making out. –B_

_Awful tight hug though. You both were as adorable as bunny slippers. ps does he know you have a pair, White Rabbit? –E&E_

Blaine wished glares could be conveyed over text. _If he "suddenly" finds out during this bus ride, I will use your comic book collection as Christmas kindling. –B_

He heard laughter from the back of the bus, and then a small commotion at a pair of seats. Blaine texted, _What's happening there? –B_

_Reed choked on a Skittle. –David_

_Told you not to give him candy. –B_

_Kurt gave. Brought snacks in case of sugar shortage. -David_

And then a mass message from Wes to all the Warblers:_ KURT BROUGHT COOKIES FOR THE AFTER PARTY. We must win or we don't get those or Medel's brownies!_

"Miss being with your friends?"

Blaine looked up at the first time Logan had spoken. The taller boy was smiling coolly again. "I'm sure if you ask Harvey, he'll let you sit with them."

"No…they can take care of themselves." Blaine gave him a sideways glance as he texted the other back. "What about your friends?"

"They're just glad I'm sitting in the front again," Logan sighed, leaning back. He had his phone in his hand, but he had no messages. "It's been a while since I was lead anything here."

"That was by choice, and you know it," Blaine remarked without looking at him. "You could have gotten the lead anytime you wanted, Logan. You just stopped wanting it."

"Really? Well, not from the way it looks from here," the other boy snorted a little, playing with his phone. "When I was singing lead, you sang chorus. And there you would've stayed until Wes and David heard you sing on your own—and then you became lead. You're steep competition."

"Coming from you, that's quite a compliment…and quite a threat. I know how volatile you get when you're compared to anyone," Blaine said mildly. "Seen it first hand. There had been casualties."

"Touche."

After a moment, Blaine put down his phone and said, "I won the fencing match _and_ the duel, Logan. You told me that if I beat you, you would tell me what your beef is with Kurt."

"I don't have a beef with Kurt," Logan said calmly, looking out the window. He remained quiet for so long that Blaine was just about to say something else, until Logan added, "…I'm in love with Kurt."

Blaine's fingers froze on the tips, that numbness climbing slowly upwards until it was prickling onto his arms. "…what?"

Logan smiled out the window. "You act like you don't know why. I saw the way you looked at him when he stopped you at the staircase that very first day he tried to spy on us. I saw you sing to him, I didn't know him then—I didn't really care. When I heard and watched him sing for audition, I finally got why you kept flying off to Lima instead of staying for practice."

He drummed his fingers on the windowsill. "…you have no _idea_ how much that amplified when he walked into the Hall to sing with me that other time. It was the most ridiculous thing that had ever happened to me, I almost _hated_ him for reducing me to this."

Blaine clenched his fists silently, trying to figure out how to even react. Knowing Logan the way he did, Blaine saw so many underlying words in his statements that he had to compose himself. "If you…do _anything _untoward to him, Logan—"

"All right, Blaine." Logan finally straightened up. He looked at Blaine. "Let's just clear this now. I know you saw him first, but how he looks at me and how he looks at you… He's comparing me to you, Blaine. And like you said…" there was no warmth in those green eyes anymore, "…I'm really…_really_ volatile…when compared to anyone."

Blaine never wavered. He matched that gaze. "That's true… but I'm not going to make it easy for you."

"It would be immensely boring if you did."

* * *

"Kurt! Kurt! Finally!" Mercedes came running up excitedly to him backstage and gave him a huge hug. Kurt laughed and hugged back warmly. "It's so good to see you here!"

"You guys are all here?" Kurt asked, grinning.

"Yup, the whole crew…" Mercedes beamed, looking at him with pride. "Finally at Sectionals. Some…issues going on in the green room, though. Sam and Quinn are taking the lead."

Kurt looked confused, but Mercedes waved it away. "Whatever—besides that, how are you? I mean, you _are_ going up against us now. I'm sure you've got one heck of a performance planned."

"Well, I don't have a solo but…I think I've started to mesh in pretty well with the group," Kurt admitted with a relieved smile. "It took me a week, on top of everything else. I'm looking forward to performing with them. How about you? Is it that bad back there?"

"There's a whole lot of drama back there but…" Mercedes smiled a little bit. "But when did we not, right? The important thing is we somehow pull it off. We can't lose now, Kurt—especially with you on the other side." She laughed.

Kurt smiled a little bit. "Are you…are you guys sure, I mean, is there anything I can do at least? I don't know, yell at someone? I'm getting pretty good at that, apparently."

"Considering what you've been telling me about your friends, I'm not surprised," Mercedes snickered. She patted his shoulder. "Look, you just focus on your own group, okay? We got this." Kurt raised an eyebrow, and Mercedes nodded, grinning, "Okay, I _think_ we got this. Well, just…watch us onstage and tell us how we did afterwards. Okay?"

Kurt gave her a long, affectionate hug, and smiled. "I miss you guys, you know."

"We miss you too. Good luck."

The Warbler smiled and waved goodbye as Mercedes hurried back to the New Directions greenroom. Kurt turned around and found Logan standing there with a smile. "We were wondering where you'd gone to," he said.

"I was just—"

Logan laughed. "It's fine, don't look so worried. Everyone knows you came from that group, which makes us doubly interested in what they've brought to the table this time. We definitely got the better end of the bargain, though. They might not be all that much when it comes to skill, if they got rid of your talent so easily."

Kurt's cheeks flared with all the heat rising to his face. "They did _not_ get rid of me, all right? _I_ left _them_. You don't even know anything about what happened! They didn't want me to leave! I made the decision to go without them even—"

"Kurt! Calm down!" Logan put his hands on his shoulders, staring at him. "Relax! I'm sorry—I didn't mean to imply anything. I'm sorry, all right? Calm down."

Kurt was breathing hard and just glared at him with the minimum conviction necessary. He glanced away. "Just don't talk about them like that."

"I won't, all right? I won't…" Logan assured him. He had yet to let go of Kurt's shoulders. He leaned down to him. "I still have to thank them, though. …if it weren't for them, I wouldn't have gotten to meet you."

He was uncomfortably close. Kurt averted his eyes, shrinking back just a bit. "…please let go of me."

Immediately, Logan released him, holding up his hands in a safe distance. "Right. Okay, sorry about that too. I just didn't want you to get upset with me."

Kurt just nodded, clutching at his elbow. Logan studied him for a moment and smiled. "Why are you so afraid of me? I won't hurt you, Kurt."

"…I don't know that yet," Kurt muttered under his breath.

Logan wasn't sure of what he heard, but he knew it wasn't good. He frowned slightly. "…I suppose your other Windsor friends told you some things about me?"

Kurt sighed. "Maybe."

"You believe them?"

"I don't know, should I?"

"They're biased! Everyone is! Is it because I'm from Stuart house? The Windsors never have anything good to say about us!"

Kurt narrowed his eyes at him. "You think that this is about what _House_ you come from? Logan, I really don't care if you come from Stuart, or Hanover, I don't even care if you board or not! It's what all the other Warblers, no matter what house they're from, say you're like! They've known you longer than I have and they can't trust you!"

"Give me a chance, Kurt," Logan said, expression almost pleading. His green eyes were intense even in the low light. "Just give me a chance. Or at least…talk to me. That's all I want."

When Kurt didn't answer immediately, hesitating, Logan's temper finally got the better of him. "Why don't you just _trust me_?" he demanded, slamming a hand to the wall and making Kurt jump.

Heart pounding at this sudden show of fury, Kurt finally looked up at him. "Trust? Okay, let's try that. Logan, why did you stop asking for the lead? Why did you let the Warblers down last year? Because everyone has been working to the edge of their lives off for this this year, it had to be the same last year. They were all counting on you—_they_ trusted _you_ and then you left them all hanging. And everyone said you were good, brilliant and you still are! And then you just dropped them because you didn't feel like it anymore! Why did you just _stop?_"

Logan looked stunned. "I…" he looked around him, as though looking for the answer. He licked his lips, looking anxious for a moment, and then suddenly became furious. "Well, what about _you_? Why do I have to explain anything to you, new kid? You think you're some kind of _saint_? You dumped your friends to join a better group after you saw us, didn't you? You dropped them right before Sectionals! You're no different from me!"

Kurt stared at him, mouth open slightly in what might have been shock or just disgust. Then he just dropped his gaze, laughed hollowly and shook his head. In a low tone, he said, "…you think…I left my friends, my family…and _everything _I had left in McKinley…because I wanted to be in a "better" group…"

"Well didn't you?" Logan glowered down at him, breathing hard. "You could have stayed, but you're here, aren't you?"

Kurt took one step towards him, blue eyes locked on Logan's green ones.

And he slapped him. Soundly.

At the unprecedented action, Logan stared into the side for a moment, frozen in shock. Kurt glared at him. "You are just such an…" He stopped himself and exhaled, recovering, trying to control all the rage that was in him. "…_get over yourself_, Logan." And then he walked off, fuming silently.

Logan seemed to come to his senses. "Kurt!" he turned to him, but Kurt just stormed into the other corridor and vanished. Logan groaned in frustration and rage, punching one of the nearby stage props, the wood shattering beneath his fist. His hand bled some, but he didn't care. He slumped back to the wall and slid down to the floor, trying to calm himself down.

Evan and Ethan quietly watched from the other end of the corridor, faces impassive. They considered the figure that against the wall and then to the direction where the other had gone. They looked at each other, nodded silently, and went the same way.

* * *

Greg knew something was wrong when he walked into the greenroom.

The twins weren't talking, and that was always the bad sign. They just sat there, arms crossed and faces stony. Logan was standing at one side with the other Stuart Warblers, one of which was helping bandage his knuckles. Kurt sat in silence, face white and eyes distant. Blaine stood over him, hand on his shoulder, looking deeply concerned. Wes and David were hovering near him, looking confused and throwing glares at Logan. Reed looked anxious. All the rest of the boys looked divided in attention, talking darkly about suspicions about what might have happened, and what went on last year.

"What happened here?" Greg demanded. The room instantly fell silent. He looked at Logan with a frown. "What happened to Logan's hand?"

"I cut myself, sir," Logan said in a low tone. "I fell onto a stage prop."

"Odd, that's usually Reed's excuse," Greg snapped, knowing he was lying. "Any reason why it's just your knuckles that are damaged, Logan?"

No answer. Greg turned to the Windsor boys. "What happened to Kurt?"

"We don't know, sir," said Blaine truthfully. He _didn't_ know. Kurt just walked in there looking white, shaky, and lost in thought. His body was incredibly tense, slowly easing, like ebbing rage. But the look on his face was of doubt, guilt and self-questioning. He seemed like he had gotten into some kind of fight, but he was not injured—so Logan's cut knuckles weren't the cause.

Greg frowned at them all. "Look at all of you. The atmosphere here is so negative, that none of you even look like a team! Just like last year! And _stop __glaring at him_ Wes! David!" he snapped when, at the mention of the previous year, the two immediately glowered at Logan. The two dropped their eyes immediately. "I've had enough of these dramatics!"

He turned to the whole group. "You all come from _one school_. All from different Houses, come together to make some real music and show them all what a real show choir should sound like. As a _group_. As a _unit_. You're smashing each other to pieces before we can even place an achievement next to your names! What are you so smug about? The fact that this generation of Warblers doesn't have a single National title to its name, all because they had to keep dwelling on battle lines?"

He glared at all the boys, who now looked guilty and couldn't look at him. "I've just been to the other greenroom. I've seen _and _heard New Directions warm up. They're a twelve-member choir and you know what? I wish they would beat you! I wish they would beat each and every one of you so _soundly_ that it would wake you all up to the fact that all of you are strongest only when you _work together_."

He looked at each of them in the eye, lingering on the particular ones but never naming them. "You _know_ your sound, boys. One unit, forming a perfect harmony. Each one carrying an integral part. It takes _all of you_, to make the Warblers what they're so famous for."

There was silence in the greenroom. The Warblers glanced guiltily at one another. Greg glowered at them. Sylvia who had been watching from the door now carefully walked in. She smiled gently at all the boys, gesturing for them all to stand.

"All right, boys," she said carefully. "Shall we have one last warm up? On my signal, give me your group chord. Ready?" The Warblers hesitated and barely nodded. She lifted her hands and made a gentle sweeping gesture. The Warblers, all together, let out a chord—but it didn't sound right. Someone was too high, too low, ended too fast, or too late.

Greg pushed up his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose, looking frustrated. Even some of the boys looked chagrined at such an output. But Sylvia just smiled. "Ah… Did you hear that? Didn't sound quite right. It's because you all are thinking too much about other things. Let's try that again, all right? This time, _listen_ to each other. Your voice must support everyone else's—and know that without you doing this, it will not work."

She urged them forward. "Deep breath. Push everything aside, and just focus on one, single sound. Because this is you. All of you, understand? Can you do it again now?"

The Warblers looked at each other. Blaine looked at them and smiled. He gestured for them to take it away. The Warblers nodded, smiling faintly. This time, they moved to their proper base formations, each in their proper place, standing tall.

Sylvia beamed. "And again." She lifted her hands and gently swept inward and upward.

In unison, the Warblers sang a single, powerful chord—a union of harmonious voices—that rang through the room, spilling outside, making passerby look up and wonder where it was coming from. Sylvia was beaming brightly as she carefully made a cutting gesture and all the Warblers stopped in perfect unison.

"Much better," she said, smiling.

The Warblers looked at each other, grinning and smirking.

Even Greg almost smiled now. He slowly got up. "That sounded a bit better… maybe you guys now actually _have_ a shot in hell of winning. Unlikely, but there's a light."

Brief murmur of laughs. The boys of Windsor looked at one another and grinned. Blaine took Kurt's hand and was happy to see him smile at him. Even Logan smiled slightly at their director with a nod. One of the stage hands now arrived at the door.

"Mr. Harvey? Ms. Medel? We're about to begin. You may take places in the audience as the Hipsters are going first."

* * *

The auditorium erupted into applause when the Warblers finished their performance. They held their elated smiles from their positions, waiting for the curtains to drop again. As soon as it fell, the entire group burst into cheers and applause, cuffing each other in relief and excitement.

"We did it! I can't believe it, we performed at Sectionals!" Reed cried, jumping up and down—and nearly fell off his position if one of the twins hadn't grabbed him before he fell. Wes and David were laughing, hugging and cuffing every Warbler they could reach as they got off the steps, massing to the backstage.

Kurt jumped down from his step and pushed his way to Blaine, giving him a quick hug as the other Warblers swarmed him with praises. Blaine was surprised but hugged back, laughing.

"You were great," Kurt grinned, flushed with adrenaline.

"And you didn't miss a step," Blaine beamed down at him, holding onto his waist. "I guess you're officially one of us now. You're a Warbler, Kurt Hummel, how does it feel?"

"Not bad at all," Kurt laughed.

"Come on!" Blaine called to the other Warblers as they rushed backstage. "Let's go see what New Directions has packing!"

There was chorus of agreement as they did so. Kurt smiled up at Blaine. "Gonna help me support my friends?"

"Of course. They gave us a standing ovation, after all," Blaine grinned. "Besides, I want to see what style you had previously come from. Who knows—maybe Harvey would like that and let you get a bit of that in for the next performance. Make you feel more at home."

Kurt turned red, pleased, and Blaine took his hand to lead him after the others. As Kurt followed, he caught Logan's eye, who was also being given friendly pats and cuffs as they hurried off. Kurt's smile dropped a fraction, and he just glanced away, following Blaine. Logan's gaze followed after him, but he just smiled a little to the other Warblers who were congratulating him and each other.

* * *

New Directions was in the middle of their performance and already Kurt could see the Warblers looking very interestedly up at them. They were grinning, studying their movements. They especially looked impressed with Mike and Brittany's wild dance moves, flipping and twirling all over the stage. Kurt had no idea that Santana would be singing the solo, and he felt proud of the Glee club vixen's vocals as she gave it everything she had.

And as he expected, if there had been any problems backstage, at this moment, the Glee club didn't look as though they had any. Each and every one of them came alive onstage—even Lauren Ziszes didn't do too bad.

"Man, they are _good_," Wes whispered to Blaine.

"We're in trouble, aren't we?" David muttered.

"Singing flowers!" the twins chirruped happily from where they were devouring packs of snacks, going through a giant package of red vines.

"You used to do all _this_?" Reed turned to Kurt with wide eyes. "I mean, it's not the normal show choir style, but man, you guys are amazing! Singing while dancing like that!"

Kurt had so much pride in his chest, watching his friends, that he felt as though he would explode. He might as well have—the moment Mike and Brittany made the final flip in their routine, Kurt leapt to his feet, applauding, joined the rest of the Warblers and the audience, cheering for the McKinley group.

Blaine glanced to their director, and smirked when he saw Greg nodding with a smile, impressed and clearly turning ideas in his head. Sylvia looked delighted to see such theatrics from the McKinley group and clearly also thought they were wonderful.

"They're good," smiled Greg.

"Amazing," Sylvia agreed.

"Now let's just hope our boys managed to pull themselves to a win."

* * *

"What do you mean we _tied_?" demanded David in a shocked whisper from where he stood with the other Warblers. The Warblers looked confused as they looked at each other and even Will Schuester looked a bit puzzled. Greg only looked as though he almost expected it. But there was no changing the judges decision—both New Directions and the Warblers would be going to Regionals, they announced.

For a moment, the audience was silent, also a bit puzzled. New Directions stood staring, stunned, looking at each other. The Warblers were as puzzled at this, if not more so.

"How…" Reed was biting his nails. "Has this ever—"

"Oh man," the twins looked confused.

"What's wrong with you guys?" Blaine whispered back, giving them a pointed look. "Don't you get it? Let it sink in for a bit—we've just won _Sectionals! _The Warblers are going to _Regionals!_"

"Hell yeah we did!" Wes yelled, throwing a punch into the air and the Warblers erupted into cheers. At this signal, the auditorium came to life, erupting into cheers that lifted to the rafters. Confetti came falling from above. There was bedlam on the stage as the groups went crazy, throwing songsheets and programs into the air as their Directors shook hands.

"Kurt!" Mercedes cried, running across the madness of the stage to engulf him in a hug. "We won! All of us, we won!"

"I can't believe it!" Kurt exclaimed, hugging her tight.

"Kurt! Look, it's Kurt!" Tina yelled from where she was clinging onto Mike. New Directions immediately swarmed onto their prodigal one, hugging and cheering with him. The girls all talking at the same time and the boys giving him high fives.

"Good to see you again," Finn smiled. "You guys did great."

"I know, so did you," Kurt laughed. Artie gave him a high five and Kurt nearly buckled under the force of Puck's hand on his back, clapping him heavily there in congratulations.

The Warblers watched in amusement as Kurt was enveloped by his McKinley family. "He looks pretty happy," Reed said, smiling. "Look at him."

Kurt was laughing at something Santana said, and he congratulated Brittany and Mike for their dance. "Yeah…" Blaine nodded slowly, faint smile. "Those guys took care of him…now it's our turn, I guess."

"Yeah, or Alice will leave Warbler Land," the twins grinned.

"Guys!" Kurt breathed, dragging the New Directions to the Warblers. "These are my friends."

"Oh we've met," Quinn grinned. Sam blinked. "You did? When?"

"Uh…long story," Santana rolled her eyes, waving it away.

Kurt introduced them all to one another, and the Warblers and New Directions greeted each other on that stage, with Kurt forming a bridge between the two groups. "You guys did amazingly," Blaine told Finn with a smile.

"Your group's vocals—they were so solid in harmony, it was great," Artie said to Reed, who was grinning.

"Yay! Talking flowers!" the twins grabbed Mercedes and Tina's hands, twirling them onstage, making the two girls laugh.

The choir Directors stood to the side, watching their two groups interact. "Not bad at all, Will," grinned Greg. "You've got one hell of a group there."

"So are your boys. That's quite a sound they've got. But my kids, yeah, they worked hard," Will nodded with a smile. "We had our problems but…worked out in the end."

"Ah, same," nodded Greg. "You'd think an all-boys school would have less." Then he looked at Will and smirked. "I bet the only reason we tied was because both our groups had so many issues in their heads that they couldn't give it everything they've got the way they're supposed to."

"That I'll believe," Will laughed, shaking his head. "They made it all right this time…but they can't be like this if they want to beat Vocal Adrenaline."

"Oh…" Sylvia shook her head, looking worried. "I know. Those boys better get their acts together. They'll be facing you _and _a juggernaut for their first Regionals."

"We'll see you then, Will?" Greg shook hands with him with a smile.

"See you then." Will turned to New Directions, who were all making a cacophony with the group of Warblers onstage, scattered singing of "The Dog Days are Over" as they did, laughing too hard to actually be coherent. He smiled and said, "All right, guys, let's pack it up. Let's go."

"Boys!" said Greg to the Warblers, leading them towards the stage exits, "We can celebrate later! I want a big talk with you guys again before we have that after party."

"Party!" the twins exclaimed, delighted. "We get to eat Kurt's cookies!"

"They want to eat your _what?"_ Santana looked at Kurt in a flash of confusion.

"Baked goods, Santana, get your head out of the gutter—go on get out of here…" Kurt smirked, motioning to where the rest of them were going, following Will. He hugged each member of New Directions as they left, genuinely happy to see them all again.

The audience was leaving as well, slowly draining out of the auditorium. As Kurt bid his friends goodbye, Lauren moved away from his view of the audience and Kurt saw something that made his blood run cold.

In the audience, standing at the side, one of the few not yet leaving, was Dave Karofsky. He was watching Kurt, no expression of his face; or maybe too far to properly see it. He just simply stood there, watching him.

Kurt's heart shot to his throat and his hand reached out to grab the nearest jacket sleeve his touch could get to—Wes'. "Kurt?" he asked, surprised. "What is it?" He saw Kurt's face, white as a sheet and the grip on his sleeve tightening. "Kurt, what's wrong?"

The other Warblers in the area started to look. Blaine turned around and saw Kurt's expression, then to where he was staring. He was staring out to the boy in the jacket in the audience, now moving to exit, but never breaking eye-contact with Kurt.

"Kurt, you're scaring me," said Reed, frightened. "What is it?"

Logan, who was nearby with other Warblers, saw the commotion and frowned, looking to where Kurt was. He saw Karofsky, and his brow furrowed a little, not understanding.

Blaine took two strides and was next to the paralyzed boy in an instant. "Kurt," he grabbed his other hand. "Don't look at him. Don't look at him—look at me." He shook his arm. "Look at me, Kurt!"

Shaking, Kurt turned terrified blue eyes at him, breath coming short, nodding shakily. "Is that him?" David demanded to no one in particular as he stood near him. "Is that the guy?"

The twins stood on either side of Kurt now, glaring at the boy in the crowd. The group of blue blazers stood protectively around Kurt, looking at Karofsky right back, until he made it to the exit, and vanished.

"Come on," said Blaine gently. "Don't let him get to you. You're safe now, remember? You're safe—it's okay."

"I—I nearly got him expelled…" Kurt stammered. "What if he—"

"There are no _what ifs_," Blaine snapped sternly, trying to get a rise out of him. It made Kurt look up. "You're with us now, you understand? It's all right. You're safe."

Kurt, heart pounding in his throat, looked at Blaine and whispered, "…he said he was going to kill me, Blaine."

All the Warblers now turned to Kurt. "He said _what?"_ Blaine demanded, as it was also the first time he had heard of it.

"He…" Reed turned shock white.

Wes and David were moving across the stage with fierce strides now and the twins leapt forward and grabbed their arms. "Whoa! Hey! Stop—stop! Don't go there, guys!"

"_Go there_?" Wes demanded. "_That _guy's been there and _back_! And he shows up here to see Kurt?"

"Don't do this now! He's gone!" Evan snapped. "He didn't do anything here. Come on!"

David shrugged free of Ethan's grasp, glaring at him.

"Why didn't you tell me this?" Blaine demanded to Kurt, voice rising. "All you told me was that he was shoving you and making fun of you and downright terrifying you and the incident in the locker room, and now—" He stopped, then came to the realization. "…that was it. That was it, wasn't it? That's the reason you left. …he threatened to kill you…" Blaine stared at him in shock.

Kurt swallowed, lowering his eyes, calming a little. "…yes. It was that. I nearly—I nearly got him expelled for it and…" he choked, forcing himself to become calm, struggling. "…the school board overturned it. He was coming back and I…I had to leave." He moved a hand through his hair, trying to compose himself. "...I couldn't tell you. I just...I couldn't."

Reed put an arm around his friend comfortingly. "Let's go. He's gone, you're okay. Let's go back to the greenroom and…give you something to calm you down." He led him offstage. The rest of the Warblers looked at each other darkly, but followed.

Standing at the wings, Logan watched all this. He turned and walked away once they all disappeared.

* * *

_On the next episode: Dalton becomes too much of a Winter Wonderland as a record-breaking level of snow descended on Westerville, effectively trapping the entire student body in for the day. Blaine falls ill, leaving the Windsor boys with no chaperones and no prefects._


	8. Temperature

_Hi, I'm C Coulter, your author for this fanfic._

_Again, I apologize for the delay. I've been unwell. I have not been sleeping well lately, and I was unable to keep up the way I had before._

_But truthfully, I would want to thank each and every reader of this fanfic. The Sectionals episode had over one hundred comments, and the fanfic itself has broken twenty-five thousand hits, so much more than I had ever expected. I am truly moved and grateful to all of you for your words of support._

_I have a little something for those who are fond of my little OCs. In my new livejournal (cpcoulter), there are small facts and tidbits about the original characters, including their full names. I will be updating the livejournal site with information, some clarifications/replies and other small blurbs. I thank all of you._

_I hope you do enjoy this episode._

_**(I do not own Glee**.)_

**_EDIT_**_: I mentioned in the livejournal Caucus about my Celsius measurement, but I decided to edit it out here nevertheless since it seems to be pretty distracting. :) [**Note**: Based the Farenheit measurement on what temp doctors apparently start getting worried about.] )_

* * *

**Dalton**

**Episode 8: Temperature**

* * *

Like clockwork, Dwight opened his eyes to the sound of his alarm clock going on at six AM precisely. Groggy, he shot out a hand from under the covers, groped for the alarm clock and managed to feel its steel frame in his hand. He then proceeded to hurl the offending device into the same wall he had been throwing it at for the last year. There was already a convenient dent there.

Yawning, he got up, dark hair flopping upwards fluffily. He stretched and tried to flatten his hair down, he felt static electricity through it. He paused carefully, considering. It was cold like last circle of Hell in Windsor this morning, darker than usual too. And now the static in his hair.

While others may have deduced that it was a normal winter phenomena, Dwight Houston was far too experienced a hunter for that. He immediately pulled out a bagful of holy-water-dampened rock salt blessed with all the right incantations. He cast a narrow-eyed look of suspicious alertness throughout the room.

In a single bound, he sprang off the bed and launched into the air. He landed with both feet onto a salt-lined perimeter placed at the precise spot he always landed on, rolled, and raced into the bathroom, slamming it shut, inwardly praising himself for his excellence in avoiding the malignant specters yet again.

_Gonna have to do better than that to capture Dwight Houston! _he mentally crowed before leaping into the bath.

His roommate merely continued to sleep—used to this daily occurrence.

Later, Dwight was fully dressed in school uniform, still proud of himself. The hair couldn't be helped, it was still fluffed up. He jogged downstairs, carrying his school satchel and his black coat, ready to face the day's educational fray while remaining vigilant about every single sign of unusual spiritual activity within their ancient school.

He took pride in the fact that he woke earlier than most of Windsor, and that with this careful vigilance, he would be able to properly protect his Windsor brothers as the one defender against mortals and all of demonkind.

_Yep…I am bad __**ass**__. _Dwight flung open the door.

…_ah crap_.

* * *

"What in…the hell…?" David and Wes hissed from the foyer, still in their sleepwear, hands under their arms and wearing slippers. They had just been roused by Dwight's unceasing yells for them to wake up and come downstairs, and while they were prepared to shake him down, they stared at what was outside their door.

Their exit out of Windsor was two-thirds blocked with solid snow. It was packed so tight that when Dwight had opened the door, it was just this wall of gray that faced them, with only a top sliver of free air.

"There is _no way_ we are getting out of here with that!" Wes said, aghast.

"It's like this even in the back door!" Dwight howled, gesturing at the gray wall of ice. "_And_ the first floor windows! What is going on here?"

"Why are you asking us?" David yawned, glowering at him irritably. "We just got up, man, I haven't even had my coffee yet. And it's _freezing._"

Reed came in, wearing a downy robe and slippers with his pajamas, still looking drowsy. "The fireplace in the common's all wet. We have to clear all that snow out the way or we can't light a fire!"

"Damn it…" Wes grumbled, glowering at all the ridiculous snow that was up to window level and worse in some spots. "This is just _perfect_. How are we supposed to get to class?"

"Hate to break it to you, boys…" said Evan, hanging over them from the mezzanine, "but we're not going anywhere. No one is."

"You all want to come take a look at this," his twin grinned.

The boys looked at each other and then went up to where Evan and Ethan were smiling much too happily for the situation. The identical ones were gesturing out one of the second floor windows that faced the rest of campus. They pushed the windows open—snow crumbling away as they did—and let the boys take a look. David and some other Windsor boys stuck their heads out the windows to see. David's jaw dropped in shock.

Dalton was almost completely sunk in snow. Windsor was barricaded by cold whiteness in all directions. The snow had to be at almost four feet deep all around them, with even more fat flakes drifting down from the sky. There was just cold everywhere with nearly no exception. The fountain at the front had frozen. And from where they were, they could see that Stuart house and the South and Main in the distance was in the same fix. Beyond a shadow of a doubt, Hanover on the other end must be blocked up too.

"It's just a whole lot of _white_ out there!" Wes yelled from the third floor window he was looking out from, holding a pair of binoculars. "There aren't even any paths! If we want to get out, we'll have to _fight_ our way out of all this ice!"

"I'm not going out there!" Dwight almost screamed. "Are you insane? It's like the blizzard sequence in _Balto_!"

Reed came back in. "Our phone and power lines are underground so they're still working—but I just got a call from Howard. He says that _all_ the boarding professors are also stuck inside the teachers' quarters, and the others couldn't even get close to campus."

"How did this happen?" Wes asked, still aghast.

"You guys didn't anger anything, did you?" Dwight asked suspiciously.

Evan and Ethan finally clomped heavily into the hall with great pride, wearing what was unmistakably full winter gear, down to a hat, gloves, snow goggles and boots. They each had snowboards tucked under one arm. They pulled up their goggles in unison and grinned as the boys stared at them.

Evan smirked. "According to the weather channel, boys, we are smack dab in the middle of what is an unprecedented level of snowfall in Ohio history."

"And that authorities everywhere are currently scrambling to provide aid those trapped by all this snow, and that they are tirelessly working to clear it all out," Ethan added with a smile.

"But they're not doing that much of a good job."

"They're trying, but it's definitely a snow day for us."

"Because they aren't going to get to Westerville properly until later this afternoon."

"Which means that we could be stranded with no rescue."

"Forced to survive on our wits!"

"And having to sit inside watching daytime soaps!"

"And canned food!"

"Seriously, we're basically screwed, though," said Evan.

Ethan nodded. "Like in _Alive_."

"Except without the eating each other part."

"We hope."

Dwight blanched, automatically clutching his talisman. "…I'm not very edible; I'm all skin and bones like my mother keeps telling me, just FYI."

Wes gave him a sideways glance of disbelief and then looked back to the twins. "So we slept through a blizzard, we're trapped indoors, and you want to go _snowboarding_?"

"We were thinking maybe trying it down the roof of the Observatory first. It's got a nice clean slope to it."

"You guys, I don't think we should be having _this_ much fun," Reed said a little doubtfully, biting his nails again. "The professors—"

"—are locked in under four feet of snow," Ethan said patiently. "What's your point?"

"You could break your necks, maybe?" Reed said, hands to hips. "And, I don't know…die both an academic and literal _death_?"

"That's right!" said Evan, making his way to the balcony with his twin. "And I suggest we make the most of it while we have this opportunity!"

"_Opportunity_?" David raised an eyebrow in disbelief as he followed them.

"Oh you poor, prim Hatter…" Ethan smiled patronizingly, putting an arm over his shoulder as he gestured dramatically to the balcony and all the whiteness that was Dalton, sweeping his hand out like Mufasa at Pride Rock. "Look, David… Everything the light touches…" he paused, "…is…well, pretty messed up," he admitted.

"_What_?" David stared at him like he was crazy.

"He means," said Evan said, patting David's back heavily, "Let's get cracking—it's not going to last all day!"

With twin whoops, both of them hurled themselves off the balcony and landed with a heavy flop into the snow. The boys gasped and ran out to the balcony, looking down. "Hey! You guys! Are you all right?"

Uproarious laughter was coming from the snowbank below, both twins half buried in snow awkwardly, struggling to get up again. They were laughing too hard to be successful.

"This is _great_!" Ethan yelled from where he was struggling to get up. He waved wildly, sending snow flying. "Come on! Let's go, you guys!" Evan was pelting the boys on the other windows with snowballs.

Wes smirked at little and glanced sideways at David. David, still looking in disbelief at the twins, looked to him, then did a double take. Wes had a glove on, and he had a lot of snow scooped up in it. David gave him a warning look even as he edged away. "Don't even try it, man. Don't even—"

_BAP!_

"_Get back here, Wes_!"

And Windsor house broke into bedlam as the boys came pounding down the dormitory in their snow gear, jumping out of windows and into the whiteness outside.

Kurt opened his door, rubbing his eyes, wondering what the riot was all about this time. Reed walked up to him with a long-suffering smile. Kurt blinked blearily, eyes swollen with sleep. "What's happening?"

Reed shrugged and smiled. "Snow day."

* * *

_I'm Kurt. And this is Dalton Academy._

_We made it through Sectionals in one piece, but we were going to have to do a lot better than that to beat Vocal Adrenaline for Regionals._

_Oh. _

_During Sectionals, I slapped Logan Wright in the face._

…_and it kind of felt good, actually._

* * *

"So much for the "Fall" Music Festival," muttered Dwight grumpily, huddled by the fire in the common room, wrapped in a huge black comforter. He looked like a giant blob of black pudding. "Administration kind of overshot their estimation of "Fall". I don't know about you, but all that snow says "Winter" to me."

Reed just laughed, getting up from where he was poking at the logs. "Won't it make it easier then—if we sing Christmas carols for the festival instead?" He stood and brushed off wood chips from his pants, and then cringed. "Oh man…! _Another_ splinter!" he sighed, holding his injured index finger, and headed back upstairs to find the first aid kit.

Kurt presently came into the common, wearing a white Chanel turtleneck that Reed had lent (or given) him. He was carrying a tray loaded with hot drinks and frowned at the group of boys in the common room, dripping in melting snow and huddled in covers.

"And what did we learn today?" he asked, raising an eyebrow at them.

"…_not_ to go out when there's four feet of snow?" Evan asked helpfully, he and Ethan sharing the same comforter.

"How were we supposed to know that not more than fifteen minutes after we get out a second assault of snow will come falling?" Ethan grumbled. Kurt rolled his eyes and handed him a cup of something warm. "You were the ones who watched the _weather_ channel and you didn't _know?_"

"Kind of stopped listening after "four feet of snow" and "snow day" and "stranded"."

"I'm sure," Kurt snorted. "It took me and Dwight half an hour to drag you all back in here before you all basically became candidates for cryogenesis. While the rest of the guys had good sense to stay near Windsor, oh no, you were more ambitious—_you_ all had to go to Stuart house and throw snowballs at them."

"They threw back!" Wes protested, head sticking out of a bright blue comforter.

"You started it," Kurt said with finality. He held out a warm cup to him as well.

Wes peeked into it. "What's this?"

"Something I wanted to try. I saw a recipe on the internet."

Ethan was drinking his when his eyes suddenly went wide when he realized what it was. "Oh! Oh!" and then started drinking the whole thing down as though he were all but inhaling it. He grabbed Evan's cup and started drinking out of that as well. "_Hey_!" his twin protested.

Kurt gave them a slight smirk. Wes sipped his and blinked. "_Oh_…! Hey, is this—?"

"It's _butterbeer_!" Ethan yelled when he finally managed to grab the cup back from his brother and got a taste. "Kurt made butterbeer!"

Wes grabbed Kurt's hands, eyes wide and staring up at him. "Hey Kurt, I know I'm straight and you're gay, but if you and Blaine don't plan on getting a move on, can I marry you, please?"

Kurt, bright scarlet, swatted him lightly on the shoulder with the drink tray and got up. "Where _is_ Blaine, anyway? I haven't seen him yet this morning."

"He must still be—" David never got to continue as Reed came hurtling down the stairs, all but throwing himself down them, slipping a few times as he did. He banged his shoulder as he rounded the banister end—he just winced and kept going—and skidded into the common room.

"Guys!" he breathed. "Come quick! Blaine's really hot!"

A terse pause.

Dwight gave him an incredulous, narrow-eyed stare. "I…think Kurt is well _aware_ of that, though, Reed…"

Kurt smacked a pillow into Dwight's face, knocking the spiritualist over with a grunt, but he turned quickly to Reed. "What do you mean?"

"Seriously, he's burning up! Come on!" and he just turned and ran up the stairs. Kurt immediately followed after him, the rest of the boys shedding their comforters and running up the stairs.

* * *

"Blaine…?" Kurt asked as he sat at the edge of the bed, leaning over the Windsor prefect curled up under thick sheets. Blaine was shivering but he remained fitfully asleep. Kurt was a veteran at taking care of people by now—with only him and his dad, he was the one who had to look after his father whenever he got sick. And after dealing with his father's recent heart attack, a fever wasn't that much of a challenge anymore.

He touched Blaine's palms and his forehead, and then shook his head. "He's really burning up."

"What do we do?" asked Wes anxiously. He glanced outside—it was still falling heavily out. "I mean…we can't take him to the medical wing. There's just no way we can carry him out through all that snow."

"Don't we have any medicine here?" Kurt asked as he took a digital thermometer out of the first aid kit Reed handed to him. After a click, Kurt looked at it. He sighed deeply, concerned. "It's a really high fever. He's a little over a hundred and three."

The other Windsor boys looked aghast. Kurt kept his hand on Blaine's forehead and looked at Wes. "We need to bring down his fever. Whole lot of ice out there, Wes; could you get me some and put it in an ice pack?" Wes left without question.

"I'll go see if we have any medication in the kitchen," David said, leaving as well.

"What can we do?" asked the twins, hovering anxiously over them.

Reed sat up. "Oh—maybe I can—"

"No, not the comforters," Kurt immediately told him. "Remember last time. We're not trying to smother him here." Reed wilted somewhat, but remained looking worried.

Kurt leaned down over Blaine, checking how he was breathing. In all other aspects he would have never ever have dared to lean this close to him. He did seem to have some trouble breathing—"He sounds a little bit congested…" Kurt straightened up, for an instant wondering what to do, but when he turned back to the others, Reed was holding out a container of menthol rub out to him.

Kurt gave his current (and possibly soon to be expired) best friend a look between stunned and murderous, but Reed, with the minutest twitch of the corner of his lips, simply raised his eyebrows in askance.

Gingerly, Kurt took the container from him. The twins had these ridiculously knowing smiles on their faces, clearly enjoying what was going to happen next. Kurt glared malevolently at them, as though daring them to say anything, but they only also looked at him expectantly.

"Why don't the two of you leave and see if you can get a hold of the school nurse?" Kurt said tersely, red rising into his face. "Ask her what we should do?"

The two looked disappointed, but got up and did not contest. Reed smiled at them as they left, then turned back to Kurt, who was also looking at him pointedly. But Reed just smiled brightly. "No, I'm not going anywhere."

"Oh, for the love of…" Kurt sighed deeply but just shook his head. "Fine."

He turned to Blaine, cogitating what he was about to do. Biting his lip, he carefully moved his hands towards Blaine's collar to start unbuttoning, but he froze and jerked his hands back when the boy on the bed moved. Reed had to cover his mouth to smother a laugh.

Kurt frowned at him and Reed looked apologetic while his eyes sparkled with interest. "You know what, _fine_…" Kurt finally said. He reached up and opened Blaine's shirt. If he did it fast enough, he wouldn't have to think about it. He rubbed some of the balm onto his hands and applied it in careful strokes over Blaine's chest and shoulders.

Reed had an attack of the giggles and had to leave the room. It was terrible, he knew, since Blaine was so sick, but seeing how awkward Kurt looked only made the situation more comical.

Now alone and unobserved, Kurt felt a great deal less awkward as he studied Blaine's contorted expression as he slept. Just as Kurt was about to finish, he stirred, hands reaching him carefully to carefully clasp the ones on his shoulders.

"…Kurt…?" he whispered hoarsely.

Awkward as it was, Kurt couldn't help but smile. He'd never seen Blaine look quite so vulnerable before. "Yeah, it's me… How do you feel…?"

"…like death warmed up."

Kurt smiled a bit more. "Well I can't blame you—you've got a terrible fever." He made to move his hands away, but Blaine held onto his wrists. Surprised, Kurt looked down at him. "…what?"

"…nothing." But he kept holding his hands, eyes closed.

Kurt flushed, turning his gaze away. After a while, Blaine seemed to breathe a little easier and let go. He smiled faintly at Kurt. "Sorry… That was kind of awkward, now that I think about it…"

"You're sick, I don't expect you to think rationally," Kurt gave him a smirk.

"Why are you still here…?" Blaine asked, confused as he glanced at the clock at his bedside. "What about class…?"

"It's a snow day," Kurt said matter-of-factly as he tucked the covers back around Blaine. "Literally. Campus is apparently four feet deep in snow. Even the professors can't get out."

Blaine turned away a moment to cough into his hand. It sounded terrible. "…have to make sure the twins don't go (cough) snowboarding…"

"They already did."

"…and not to let Reed near the fireplace…"

"Already did that too."

"…what about Wes and David throwing snow at Stuart?"

Kurt marveled at how well Blaine knew exactly what his friends would be doing on a snow day. But he shook his head. "You're way too late. Dwight and I had to pull them all back in here when the second wind hit."

"You're all right, though?" Blaine asked.

"Why are you talking? Why are you worried about me?" Kurt scolded, pushing him back down. "Blaine, you've got a hundred and three-degree fever, you can barely breathe, you're in the middle of the blizzard of the decade—you have to just lie down, all right?"

Blaine stared at him, eyes bloodshot. "…right." He leaned his head back onto the pillow. "You know…I didn't want you to see me like this."

"Too late for that too," said Kurt as Wes walked in to the room with the ice pack. He took it from him and put it on Blaine's head. He winced at the coldness but Kurt just shot him a look and he left it on his head.

"You look like _crap_, Blaine," said Wes, half joking and half serious.

"I'll take your word for it," Blaine grumbled. Kurt tucked the covers more snugly around him and watched as Blaine started to drift off to sleep again.

That was when David came in looking distressed. He carried some pills with him, but he shook his head as he handed them to Kurt. "That's all we've got. Aren't even the right ones, most of them. And…we kind of don't have much food left in the house. At least, nothing Blaine should be eating like that."

"How long did they say this storm was going to go?" Kurt asked, worried.

"Hours? But even if it stopped, there's still a whole lot of snow on the ground. How'd we get out?"

Evan peeked into the doorway. "Kurt. Come here a second."

With a glance at Blaine, Kurt rose and went to the twins outside. Ethan looked bothered and shifted uncomfortably when Kurt looked up at them. "We managed to get a hold of Ms. Summers. She's still in her house, but because of the storm, she can't come here. She sounded upset when we described to her how bad Blaine looked. She said that we have watch him carefully for the next few hours. If he doesn't get any better, she'll call for a medical helicopter to come get him."

"He won't get any better…" Kurt muttered. "We don't have enough medication—we don't even have that much food. Your housekeeping skills are hideous."

"We're aware," the twins sighed. "Pets don't live long, either."

"Luke's spider lived for a month, I think."

"Until Dwight's "familiar" swallowed it. And then the familiar died."

Ethan saw the look on Kurt's face and quickly ran back to the topic. "But we've got to try."

Kurt stood, considering for a moment. And then he looked up as he got a thought. "You told me when I first came here that you can open any door in this campus. …can you open the clinic? They'll have the things we need there."

"Kurt, you're talking about going out in _that!_" Evan pointed to the storm. "Even if we _did_ have a key to open the door and the cabinets—which, we just might—you'll never get there right now. It'll have to wait until the storm dies down even a little."

"Look." Ethan put his hand on Kurt's shoulder when he saw how worried he was. "We don't like this any more than you do. But Blaine wouldn't want you to go running out there either."

"What about you two, then?"

"We can't _snowboard_ across campus," Evan rolled his eyes. "This is Ohio, not Aspen. Kurt, I _promise_ we will go once the storm lets up even a _micron_. Relax. Here, I'll even give you the key, if it makes you feel better." He put an unadorned silver key into Kurt's palm.

_Relax. Right. _Kurt just shook his head and turned back to the room. _Maybe…he'll get a little better._

* * *

Blaine didn't get worse but he didn't get better, either.

While the boys tried to scrounge for food and cleaned up broken glass from the windows smashed in by snow and wind, Kurt was sitting with Blaine. It had been some hours since they found him. Blaine would fall asleep and wake, and neither time he looked relaxed. He only looked cold and ill. Kurt gave him his medication and that helped for a while, but it would only work if it was constant.

There was enough junk in the house to fuel the boys for the day, but the stock wouldn't help Blaine. All Kurt could temporarily give him was a couple of apples, which he could barely eat.

Kurt started to notice how important Blaine was in the house. The other boys kept passing by his door as though looking to ask him about things, but they would remember he was sick and would leave. Blaine was the Acting House Prefect, and they all naturally turned to him for things, but now that even _he_ was sick, there was no one to tell them what to do. David had to take over, keeping them away from Blaine and trying to keep the house intact.

It had to be some form of Karma, he had told Kurt.

"You don't have to stay here, Kurt," Blaine had whispered later that day. "You might catch it too."

"I don't trust anyone around here with caring for someone ill," Kurt rolled his eyes. "They can barely even look after themselves as we speak."

But it wasn't when Blaine fell into a fitful sleep, clearly struggling with whatever was ravaging his body—hot and cold and skin red and tender—that Kurt felt he had to do something. _Anything_.

Blaine looked tired and ill, and he slept clutching onto Kurt's hand. His palms were scorching, and pain was evident in his expression even as he slept. Kurt held onto Blaine's hand leaned forward to it, taking a deep breath.

_I_ _can't watch this anymore. _Kurt got up and stormed out the door.

"Kurt!" said David, spotting him in the corridor, putting on a jacket and heading to one of the windows on the second floor. "Hey, you're not going out there, are you?"

"I have to go get him medication!" said Kurt.

"The twins had already gone out to try and get some food from the South and Main. If you just wait a while, they'll get to the clinic! Kurt, you _can't_ go out there."

"I'll be _fine_," Kurt snapped back.

"How are you even going to get in there?" David demanded.

"Twins gave me the key."

"I'm going with you."

"No, I said!" Kurt turned to him. "Look, you've got to take care of the others in the house and Blaine. I'll be back. I'm not _that_ delicate." And with that, he opened the window and jumped out. His boots landed with a soft thump onto the snow. It was positively frigid. And Kurt, squinting through the wind, pulled down the earflaps of his hat a bit closer as he trudged towards the direction the clinic.

There was no longer much snow falling, but the wind was so strong that it was blowing all the flakes into his face, stinging. Each step he took sank his boots into the snow, and his feet were starting to get cold. He clutched his coat closed and moved as fast as he could across grounds.

"Kurt!"

He stopped. From the direction of Stuart, he saw Logan, running to him. He was wearing a thick fur coat and heavy duty snowboots. Kurt tensed now, not for the cold, but at the sight of him after what happened last time.

"Kurt, what are you doing out here?" Logan cried over the wind. "Get back inside!"

"I have to get to the clinic!" Kurt shot back. "Blaine's sick! He needs medication and we don't have any in the house!"

Logan looked at him for a moment, then said, "Come on! Come with me!"

"Where?"

"To Stuart! It's closer! Clinic wing's on the other side of campus, near Hanover! I'll just give you some of our supplies!"

Kurt was surprised, but didn't have any choice anymore. He nodded and followed Logan to Stuart. As he did, he called, "What happened to your eye?"

Logan didn't miss a beat. "It got hit by a fist! Nothing unusual!"

Kurt stared at him, wondering why he would have gotten into a fight in the first palace. Logan helped him up the way to Stuart, and stopped him at their entrance. "Stay here," he said. "They'll all get mad if they see you in there. I'll get the food and supplies." He ducked back into the house without letting Kurt get and word in edgewise.

Kurt shifted uneasily at all this. He had slapped Logan back at Sectionals, but here he was helping him. And he didn't even care that it was all for Blaine either. Maybe Kurt had acted too hastily? Had he been out of line when he slapped Logan? He couldn't be sure.

When Logan came out, he had a large package of medicine and some food. He gave it to Kurt, who looked up at him. "Why are you doing this?"

Logan gave him an odd look as though wondering why he had to ask. "I'm the Stuart House Prefect. I'm supposed to be helping you."

On the way back, Logan had brought out another coat, and they both used it as a shield to push through the snow and the wind. It was a long, cold walk, and not even standing near Logan could alleviate it.

By the time they got back to Windsor, Kurt's teeth were chattering. Logan made sure that Kurt was able to get up to the window safely, boosting him up with his height. As Kurt climbed back into the house, he turned back to Logan, who just nodded to him, standing there longer than absolutely necessary, and left to make the trek all the way back to Stuart.

Kurt felt that guilty twinge again. Logan had helped him with no prompting, without a word. He didn't know what to make of it. He took off his sopping boots and his cold, wet things before picking up the brown package and heading into Blaine's room. The twins were there, checking his temperature. "Hey Kurt," said Evan with a small smile. "We got the food and…medication…" he saw the package in Kurt's hand. "Where did you get those?"

"From…Logan," Kurt answered truthfully. "I tried to go to the clinic wing, but he saw me…gave me this instead."

The twins looked at each other, but said nothing. They just nodded. "Blaine's been talking in his sleep," said Evan. "He's looking for you, Kurt."

They didn't imply anything with their tone either. They simply left. Kurt sat down next to the bed again and checked Blaine's temperature. It was a little lower than before. With a deep sigh, Kurt got the medicine ready and took Blaine's hand. He hoped he would get better.

* * *

Blaine stirred. When he looked up, he saw Kurt asleep on the edge of the bed, holding his hand. He smiled. On the dresser table was a small medicine cup with some tablets, and the cup itself was labeled with a post-it: Drink Me!

Blaine smiled at that, and dutifully took his medication. He held onto Kurt's hand and watched him continue to sleep, his serene face never once implying what he dreamed of, or if he was dreaming at all. He wished he knew who Kurt dreams of.

Gently, Blaine leaned forward and kissed Kurt's frozen fingertips, breathing gently onto them to warm and thaw them. He smiled down at him.

He was starting to feel better already.

* * *

_On the next episode: The Warblers start to prepare for the Winter Festival. The Warblers are set to perform in front of the school and the alumni for the festival and the battle for positions resume. However, this time Kurt has to duel for the position of second soloist._


	9. Questions

_Hi, I'm C Coulter, your writer for this fic._

_Again, I am moved and so grateful for the kind comments I have been receiving. Thank you for your well wishes about my health, and for continuing to enjoy my little piece about Dalton life. I hope that you all would still continue to do so._

_As I said before, Dalton will have some extra tidbits and drabbles that may be found at cpcoulter in livejournal. Currently, there is a running poll on favorite OC, and the twins and Reed are leading by a good margin. Which is why I've chosen to look a little further towards their backgrounds and give them a moment to shine in today's episode._

_The episode is a tad shorter today than I would have wanted, but I will make up for it in the following one-as after that, I will be taking a one-day hiatus before returning. _

_I hope you all enjoy this episode. :)_

_(**I do not own Glee)**._

* * *

**Dalton**

**Episode 9: Questions**

* * *

_I'm Kurt. And this is Dalton Academy._

_Things went almost back to normal after Sectionals and the storm. _

_With Sectionals over, it's time to focus on the Winter Fest._

_...or at least, that had been my plan._

* * *

Kurt came storming out of Murdoch's classroom looking so livid that all the boys in the hall immediately cleared his path as he came past. Kurt was gripping his term paper like he was going to hurl it on the next human being he comes across with. After two days of being locked in by snow, Dalton finally had some semblance of life again, but _this_ was apparently what was to greet Kurt when he returned to class.

"_Under researched"? "Uneducated discussion"? "Shallow observations"? _ he thought furiously, striding down the halls looking for blood. _I spent nearly an entire week diving back and forth into the library stacks and analyzing his three-inch-thick required reading—for __**one **__paper! What the hell is wrong with that man? And why in this green earth is the __**football coach**__ also teaching __**Literature**__?_

It was the longest, most heavily detailed term paper he'd ever written for anyone and even the Windsor boys were appalled at the size of it. "We'd never had that before," David had said, stunned when he saw the printout earlier. "He gave you all that so you could "catch up"?"

Kurt had experienced a demanding teacher before, but Sue Sylvester was psychotic and she demanded perfect formations and dance moves. And she, to _some_ degree, exhibited levels of fairness. But when he received that paper back and saw his plunging marks, he confronted the hulk behind the teacher's table after class.

"I don't understand," he had said, frowning. "I thoroughly read the studies, Professor Murdoch, and all of my credible sources have been cited—"

"I think I'll be the judge of that, Mr. Hummel," the professor glowered down at him. The Stuart House Head looked gigantic—a man wreathed with a strong bulk that reminded Kurt strongly of the muscle-bound jocks at McKinley, except a fully-developed version. "You clearly didn't make use of any of the studies that have been specifically outlined in the curriculum for the semester—"

"Because I knew they would be what all the others will be using," Kurt shot back. "It would make no sense for me to parrot what all the others did for class so I took another angle using another theory—"

"Which as I said clearly," and Murdoch pointed to the great scarlet streak of ink on Kurt's paper, "was completely inappropriate for the topic under discussion."

"_What_?" Kurt could believe what he was hearing. "Professor Murdoch, I found over a _dozen_ references in the Dalton Library that applies that theory to—"

"This conversation is going in circles, Hummel," Murdoch boomed down at him. Kurt didn't flinch. "As I stated, your main sources should have been _only_ the ones in the studies as they are the most apt for the discussion."

"With all due respect, sir," Kurt snarled through gritted teeth, "I think you're biased. Because all those sources come from texts that _you _wrote."

Murdoch's expression turned dark—so dark that the boys passing outside had to stop and stare as the giant advanced on Kurt's slim form. "You are getting out of line with that mouth of yours, Mr. Hummel. You are no longer in some backwater Ohio public school. You're in Dalton Academy now, and you are going to act in the manner befitting an educated young man—or do they not teach you that where you come from?"

Kurt flushed with rage, hardly able to speak. "So this is all about where I'm _from?_"

"The _only_ thing we discriminate about here in Dalton is _excellence_ in all aspects," Murdoch snapped. "Your paper, behavior _and _wardrobe—if your attire last week during the meet was any indication—has none. Now leave this room immediately before I mete out detention, or call your parents."

Thereupon, Kurt grabbed his paper furiously and stormed out, wanting desperately to harm something, and he had to leave or it would have been that hypocrite in the classroom. He had never been so angry in his life—he had never even gotten lower than a B+ in his studies. Even if he had trouble in his first week, with the help of the Windsor boys, he managed to keep up a good grade—until now.

Blaine entered from an adjoining corridor and saw the other boys fleeing Kurt's expression. He walked to him and quickly moved to stop him. "Whoa, Kurt—what's wrong? What happened?"

Kurt held up his crumpled term paper and pointed to the great red streaks with conviction. Blaine nodded slowly, understanding the situation, "Oh…Murdoch."

"And what are you doing up?" Kurt demanded suddenly. "You had a high fever just the day before yesterday!"

"I can't stay in that bed another day," Blaine almost complained, tugging on his collar. He still looked a bit pale. "And I can't miss any more Warblers' meetings for the Winter Fest."

"If you get a relapse, you're not _going_ to Winter Fest!" Kurt retorted. "Is that so hard to understand?"

"All right! All right—just—just calm down," Blaine said firmly. "I'm on your side, remember?"

Kurt groaned and fell back down onto one of the seats in the hall. "I know, I'm sorry—it's just that it's so—" he completed the sentence with a frustrated sound with his hands suggesting strangling something.

Blaine smiled, sitting next to him. "I know the feeling. Happens a lot more often than you'd think. Did you know he once wouldn't accept a term paper from David saying that it was apparently "too advanced" for someone of his year level?"

"He _what_?" David had the one of the highest GPAs in Windsor—and took pains to keep it that way in spite of the madness indoors.

"Yeah, he accused him to taking it from the paper of one of the graduates. David went ballistic. You know how tense he can get sometimes."

"What did you do?"

"Well after David couldn't talk to him, he told Howard. There was apparently a heated debate, and Howard got Murdoch to raise the grade, but it only landed as a B—David's first in three semesters."

"Did he ever do anything to you?"

"There's a reason I left the football team," Blaine smiled wanly in response. Kurt shook his head in disgust, "So much for no bullying."

"You think?" Blaine sighed. "Only with Murdoch, it's apparently _not_ bullying when he's "setting a standard of excellence". Or that's what he says." He saw Kurt's frown at his term paper again and nudged him. "I can talk to Howard for you."

"No, _I'll_ talk to Howard," said Kurt, shaking his head. "You need to get back to bed."

"I'm fine—!"

"You are not. And besides, _I_'_m _the one with the bone to pick with him." He paused and frowned again. "And besides, he insulted mine and Reed's taste in clothing."

Blaine burst out laughing. "Yeah, I don't think he likes the flamboyant." He patted Kurt's knee, resisting every urge to pull him close, and smiled. "I'll see you back in the dorm, okay?"

"Okay." Kurt nodded, watching him go. He sighed as Blaine disappeared and got up, looking down at his paper. He placed it into his satchel and went off to the direction of the professors' lounge. As he crossed the halls, he passed by the Warblers' home base, the door of which had been left wide open.

"Kurt—get in here!" said an imperious voice from the room, making him jump. Kurt blinked and went in. "Mr. Harvey?"

Greg was looking at a sheaf of sheet music, which he hadn't looked up from even when he called him. Kurt walked up to him, confused. "Is there anything wrong?" _Is there any more bad news for the morning?_

"I heard about Blaine, Ms. Summers told me. How is he?"

"He can clearly walk around now—I just saw him in the halls. But I told him to go back to the dorm."

"He's not well yet?"

"I don't think he's fully recovered."

"Will he recover in time for the Fest?"

Kurt hesitated. Blaine had been practicing hard and had been all but completely set for the (now) Winter Music Fest, until he had gotten ill. He knew why Greg was asking—it was because if Blaine wasn't fit enough to perform, he would have to get the second soloist. And the second soloist last time had been Logan.

"I…" Kurt considered, "I think he might be able to pull it off but…I'm not sure if he'll be _fully_ recovered when he does. But of course, I think he'd rather choke and die than just give it up without a fight."

"Well, I don't want him to get worse either," Greg commented, glancing at him. He smiled a little at Kurt's hesitation. "Don't worry, Kurt. I'm not putting Blaine out of the running until I see that he really can't, or shouldn't, be doing it."

"Right," Kurt smiled, nodding in relief. "You, um, want me to tell him?"

"No, actually—I wanted to tell _you_ something. For the Fall—ah, that is, Winter performance," he grimaced at the snow, no doubt remembering the terribly eternal day he had to spend indoors trying to civil to his irritable colleagues, "For that performance, we need _two_ leads." He gave Kurt a steady look. "Now, I'm not offering you the part…but I was hoping to see you duel for it."

Kurt stared in amazement. "I—of course! Of course, I'd love to audition for it! The second lead, I mean."

"Well, who knows," Greg looked tired. "If Blaine doesn't make it and you beat Logan, you just might squeak by and get the first lead."

"Like Blaine wouldn't have a complete meltdown before he left it to Logan…" Kurt muttered, then stopped and looked up. "Wait. You mean Logan's dueling him _again_?"

"He said he wanted to," said Greg, nodding as he sat at the piano. "He looks like he wants to retake his old spot. I don't know what it is, but something's lit a fire under him."

Kurt fidgeted. Then Greg said, "Now, I'll need to confirm you for the application. You better get ready, because I'll close applications by the meeting later—and then I'll announce if you will have to go through preliminary assessment with me and Ms. Medel, or if you'll duel immediately."

"Right…right," Kurt was already distracted. He was mentally running through his entire, highly extensive repertoire. What should he sing that will win the Warblers over for a duel? Or for that matter, what _couldn't _he sing…?

At that moment, a thought came to him. He stopped and looked up. "Wait…um…is there anyone I _am_ dueling with yet?"

"For second soloist?" Greg checked the sheets. "Well, if no one else comes forward… you're dueling Reed Van Kamp."

* * *

"I'm so dead, oh my _freaking _last season Givenchy, I'm so dead."

"Reed!" Kurt scolded as his friend continued to pace his white carpeted floor later that day. "Calm down."

"There's no _calming down_!" Reed shot back as he flailed, the exaggerated sleeve of his Alexander McQueen top flipping. "I'm dueling _you_! I don't have anything that'll beat you!"

"Why are you telling me this, I'm your competition…?" Kurt raised an eyebrow as he watched him pace.

"You're also my friend? Quite frankly I'd rather be honest than have a meltdown on my own when I realize that _oh Prada_ I'm so _dead!_" he sank into his bed, head in his hands. He choked out, "Besides, _you_ told me you're dueling me, might as well be honest right back, right? I mean you could've let me flounder right there instead of giving me a heads up."

"I didn't even _know_ I was dueling you until I accepted," Kurt said, getting up and climbing onto the bed next to him. "I don't get what you're so freaked out about."

"Well _I_ do!" Reed snapped, hugging his pillow and tearing threads off it. "Have you heard yourself sing?"

"Yes, many many times and I'm aware of the magnitude of my talent."

"That's my point…" Reed groaned, flopping down onto the bed facedown. "…I've never even _tried_ to duel for second soloist before. I figured I'd just put my name down because I just thought that there was just going to be only one main—and that's what Blaine and Logan'll be fighting for—and that I wouldn't even ever actually _have_ to duel. How was I supposed to know that there were two leads and that I signed myself for the second one?"

"Reed," said Kurt disapprovingly, glowering down at him. "You're a Warbler for heavenssakes. You can't be all _that_ bad. Stop being so dramatic!" He tore away the pillow from Reed's clutches. "Get up! Right now! Sing me something."

"Over my dead well-dressed body, Kurt! I'm not going to _sing_ for you now!"

"Oh yes you will…" Kurt grabbed his wrists—he was taller and stronger—and pulled the other boy up to his feet. "Up! Get up, stand over there and sing me something. _Now_, Reed, I'm telling you, we don't have all day—Project Runway is coming on in half an hour."

Bright scarlet, Reed fidgeted from where he stood in front of him. Kurt gave him a raised eyebrow in response. "Well?"

"Just so you know, I've never sung solo before," Reed warned.

"Reed!"

"All right!" he sighed. "Teddy Geiger fine with you…?"

Kurt just blinked slowly, deadpan, in response. Reed sighed and slowly began to sing. At first, he was singing so softly that Kurt could barely hear it. He gestured for him to be louder.

Reed raised his voice, tentative at first, then picking up some confidence slowly.

_Wandering the streets, in a world underneath it all_

_Nothing seems to be, nothing tastes as sweet_

_As what I can't have…_

_Like you and the way that you're twisting your hair 'round your finger…_

_Tonight I'm not afraid to tell you…what I feel about you…_

Kurt's eyebrows went up again, blinking. Reed wasn't in his pitch range, that was certain…but he wasn't bad. He wasn't bad at _all_. There was a color to his voice and an emotion that went out. And when Reed finally started getting comfortable, just getting into the song…

_I'm gonna muster every ounce of confidence I have_

_and cannon ball into the water…_

_I'm gonna muster every ounce of confidence I have_

_For you I will…_

_For you I will…_

Kurt stared, blinking. Reed may or may not have forgotten he was in the room by now. He was just really getting into it, and now that he was—he could really _really_ sing. Like Logan and Blaine, Reed turned the song into something wholly his own.

_If I could dim the lights in the mall and create a mood I would_

_Shout out your name so it echos in every room, I would_

_That's what I'd do, that's what I'd do _

_that's what I'd do to get through to you_

_You always want what you can't have_

_But I've got to try_

_I'm gonna muster every ounce of confidence I have_

_For you I will_

_For you I will…_

When he finally stopped, he looked a little out of breath and flushed, disoriented. He seemed to come to after a bit and looked at Kurt. "Oh… right, so…"

"What do you mean 'oh right'?" Kurt demanded, sitting up. "Why have you never sung like this before?"

"Oh…was it—was it that bad?"

"Are you crazy—_no!_ You were great! You were more than great—you _could_ become a soloist if you wanted!" Kurt got up and went to him. "Why haven't you ever tried before?"

Reed shrugged dejectedly, sitting down. "I don't know. Never really had anyone listen to me before."

"What do you mean?"

Reed shrugged again, picking at his coverlet. "…I don't know. I mean… You know my mom, right?"

"Who in their right mind doesn't…?"

"Exactly, well she…she doesn't really think I'd be any good at it." He fidgeted. "I mean she's _heard _me, of course, but she thought it wasn't that big of a deal. And coming from her, well…that's kind of a high standard. She doesn't know I'm a Warbler either."

Kurt had heard of celebrities throwing their children into showbiz, regardless of whether they had talent or not, but he had never heard of one that actually _didn't_ want a talented child to perform. He sat next to Reed, concern written on his face. "…your mother doesn't want you to sing…?"

"Yeah… she wants me to take over her empire or be a designer or a photographer or…_something_ related to what she does. That's fine by me but…I _like_ singing. And painting. But right now singing is more relevant."

"You sing, you paint, you have the most amazing taste in clothes—is there anything you can't do?" Kurt smiled.

"Apparently, I can't walk down a newly mopped hallway without breaking limbs," Reed grinned.

"There's that," Kurt conceded. He put an arm around Reed. "Well, I thought you were great. And coming from me, of course, you can be pretty damn sure that it's a compliment."

Reed laughed, leaning against him. "Thanks, Kurt. But don't you dare start pitying me now—you better duel me up there. If you're going to kill me, you better kill me well. Or I am never going to give you anything from the Marc Jacobs winter collection."

"Please, Reed," Kurt smirked in an endearingly bitchy way. "Now that I know how good you are, I'm going to unleash every ounce of talent I've got to completely destroy you."

"Fantastic. Now come help me pick a nice outfit for my burial."

"Glad to."

* * *

Logan stepped out of the school building, loosening his tie as he did, looking forward to returning to Stuart for a few peaceful moments before he had to go prepare for Warbler practice.

"Hey, there!"

"How you doing, buddy?"

Two dangerously bright and happy voices came from next to him. And the next thing he knew, the twins were on either side of him, grinning. They immediately grabbed onto his shoulders started leading him to the direction of the library. "You're coming with us!"

"_What_?" he struggled against him, but they simply pushed him onwards, hands resting on his back.

"We're just going to talk!" said the other twin with that same bright, friendly tone that at times never boded well for anyone receiving it that wasn't a Windsor boarder. "Don't worry."

Logan glowered at them, shrugging off their hands to no avail, but he let them lead him. He rolled his eyes as they arrived at the Library which was empty at this time in the day.

Ethan sidled in first while Evan kept Logan outside. Ethan slipped up to the librarian's desk and beamed adorably, looking perfectly angelic. "Hey, Mrs. A!"

"Oh hello…Ethan? Or Evan?"

The twin laughed. "It's Ethan, Mrs. A. So anyway, Dean Ramsey told me to tell you to go to her office? Something about the list of books you requested? She said that no, we're not allowed to get the Book of the Nine Gates to the Kingdom of Darkness."

"But I didn't put in—" she stopped and glowered. "If it's _Dwight_ again…" She quickly picked up a clipboard and walked out of the counter. "I better go look at what else might have slipped in there. Ethan, would you keep an eye on the place? I won't be very long."

"No problem, Mrs. A!" Ethan grinned, leaning on the counter. She gave him a smile and exited the door, the oaken wood swinging. When it swung back, Evan appeared in the doorway with Logan. The twins then hauled Logan across the room and deposited him onto a seat at a table facing them. They each the grabbed a chair, twirled it to place across Logan and planted a foot on it.

In a swift movement, Evan turned the reading lamp upward, beaming it directly into Logan's face. They weren't smiling now. "All right, Wright. Talk."

"About what?" Logan asked, rolling his eyes.

Ethan didn't bat an eye. "Snow day. Storm? Kurt? You? Together?"

"Wow, you guys _are_ insane," Logan snorted. He brushed his blazer off without hurry. "If you must know, while the both of you were breaking into the cafeteria, Kurt decided to go to the clinic wing. Which, as you know, is near _Hanover_. Which is the dorm furthest to yours. If I'd let him go on out to there, you both basically would be in his _funeral_ right now."

"As much as we are so _deeply_ grateful to your attempting to help our poor sick Acting House Prefect," Evan made a saccharine smile, "we can't help but wonder if, by doing so, you were trying to help _yourself_ more?"

"I just helped both Blaine _and_ Kurt and this is the thanks I get…" Logan sighed, giving them a look that clearly showed he thought they were morons. "If I'd've known, I wouldn't have bothered."

"Just tell us why you're messing with Kurt so much, Logan?" Evan smiled kindly. "Because really, we all know that deep in your black ice heart that you're not really the first person we'd go to for any semblance of random _compassion_."

"Not after you ran your first Windsor boy off campus anyway," Ethan added with the same expression.

Logan just shook his head, looking bored and annoyed. "So Blaine hasn't told you… I don't blame him, it really must be bad news when you can't really _do_ anything about it."

"And tell us what, exactly?"

"That I'm in love with Kurt."

That got the twins' attention. They both stared at him, mixed expressions rushing over their faces—which ranged from shock, amazement, and then precursor to fury.

"Logan…" said Ethan slowly, as though treading through dangerous water, "…I swear…if you are screwing with us…"

"I'm not joking," Logan said, looking at them directly. "I already told Blaine, and even he knew I was telling the truth. I'm telling you now. And at some point, I'm going to tell Kurt."

"You can_not_ do that to Kurt," said Evan firmly, planting a hand on the table. "You have no idea what he's just been through and if you confuse him now—"

"I know what Kurt's been through," Logan looked annoyed. "Why do you think I still have this?" And he point s to the fading bruise around his eye. "That dumb jock who scared the ever loving hell out of him during Sectionals? Yeah, I saw him. I caught up to him. And I rather politely asked him to stay away from Kurt."

"You beat him up?"

"I didn't beat _anyone_ up," Logan shot back.

"Tsk. Pity." Ethan sighed.

Evan agreed. "He could've used a hit—just one."

"_He_ was the one who nearly choked me back there. If people hadn't passed by, I think I'd have more than just a black eye, but then he would be in _crutches_.But no. I don't stoop to punching people who already have too little brain cells to lose."

Evan leaned back and looked at his brother. "Starting to think he's telling the truth a little bit."

Logan glared at them. Ethan glanced absently at him and said, "No, Logan, the I-can-ruin-your-lives glare doesn't work on us, remember? We're all standing on the same platform here." He looked to Evan. "Me too, starting to think he is."

The twins looked at him. "You can go."

Logan just snorted and picked up his bag, heading for the door. Before he could open it, however, Evan said, "Hey Logan."

The prefect stopped. Ethan gazed silently at him. "Given your previous colorful history of damage in Windsor affairs, if at any point Blaine and Kurt get really hurt by your antics… we may not be able to remain as civil."

"We were ever civil…?" Logan raised an eyebrow, gave them a nod, and left.

_What do they have to worry about? _Logan thought inwardly as he walked off to Stuart. _Kurt won't even look at me. All he sees is Blaine. And it's really starting to tick me off._

* * *

"For first lead…" Sylvia looked down at her sheet of paper. "Logan and Blaine will duel again."

Murmuring in the Warblers' hall. Logan had dueled twice now—did it mean he was getting back on his feet? Blaine remained the rational choice, however.

"And for second lead…"

This made them look up. They seldom had second leads and not even they knew so much about it. Sylvia smiled, "It'll be Kurt…" sound of approving murmurs, Kurt beaming, "…and Reed."

This was followed by surprise and confusion. Reed wilted back onto his seat, but Kurt threw him a reassuring glance. Sylvia said, "The four of them have until tomorrow. Then they will perform, and you all will vote."

"Whoa, Reed," Wes said, looking at his friend with a grin. "You're going to duel?"

"Yeah, man, we've never heard you before," David agreed.

"Speaking as someone who heard and with a very discerning ear…" Kurt said importantly before giving Reed a smile, "I think he's a worthy opponent."

"Ooh, I definitely have to see that," said Wes, nodding with a grin.

"Now let's just hope Blaine's well enough by tomorrow to do anything," David remarked.

"I'll go see him later," said Kurt. "I'll make sure he eats and drinks his medication."

"How about you give him a nice warm snuggle?" Wes suggested, and David's snorts were checked by Kurt's glares.

"So it's kind of like a date?" Reed said with a grin. "You bring dinner to him, don't you? And you eat there too?"

Kurt colored to his scalp. "It is _not_ a date—he's _ill_, you all need therapy."

"I think the Florence Nightingale gig looks cute on you, Kurt," said David with a laugh.

"Shh!" Kurt elbowed him when Sylvia looked their way. Sylvia gave them all a look before saying, "Everyone, I expect all of you to practice tirelessly. Distinguished guests and alumni are coming to the Winter Fest, and I'd like them all to see you at your very best. You'll want to really shine here—these people can really help you."

The boys nodded.

"That said: this is an open event. We have made the necessary arrangements and have sent your parents their invitations."

Kurt's eyes went big. Burt and Carole…coming to campus? On Winter Fest? "Our _parents_? Here?"

"Isn't this great?" said the twins, draping their arms over Kurt's shoulders. "We get to see the wonderful people who raised us…" Snort. "This should be good."

Reed bit his nails anxiously and Kurt fidgeted. "Now everyone, please rise." Greg said, coming in. "Positions please."

As he did, Sylvia went up to Kurt and touched his arm and Reed's. "If you boys would like a hint… it would be nice if you sang a duet with someone, just so we could see how effective you would be as a partner."

_A duet with someone…? _Kurt wondered. And then he wondered, heat rising to his face, _Maybe…I can ask Blaine to sing with me_?

"Oh and Kurt," said Sylvia, whispering to him with a smile. "Try and add a little…glitz. Like New Directions does. It might be nice to have something different."

"All right…" Kurt nodded, thinking. _So it's a duet…with some pizzazz… _then he realized that Burt and Carole would be watching. Would he be able to duet with Blaine at all?

"Kurt," Reed tugged on his sleeve anxiously. "Don't look now, but Logan's looked at you."

Kurt sighed deeply.

When he said he wanted someone to notice, he didn't think it would be this much.

* * *

_On the next episode: Kurt's musical duel is coming up, and it looks like Reed is getting ready as well. Blaine has started to recover, but he and Logan seem to be in terser situation than before. Is it a solo or a duet for Kurt? Who will earn the front spot to sing in front of all the dignitaries? While Kurt, Blaine, Reed and Logan are so occupied, Wes, David and the twins, are up to something else-what with Dwight's birthday coming up so soon._


	10. Answers

_Hi, I'm C Coulter, your author for this fic._

_It's my update before hiatus and it's the 10th episode. I had never imagined it would get this far, and to each and every single one of you who have supported me and given me so much kindness and encouragement in your words, I am grateful. The post is late-again, I apologize-but here's hoping you nevertheless find it to your satisfaction. I will be one a day hiatus tomorrow, and the next few days are slightly uncertain. I will be leaving the country for a competition and I do not know if I will be able to update then, but I will try my very best._

_I am indebted to all of you and here I hope that you will enjoy this episode._

_(**I do not own Glee.**)_

* * *

**Dalton**

**Episode 10: Answers**

* * *

_I'm Kurt. And this is Dalton Academy._

_The Warblers and I are working towards the Winter Music Festival, where we'll perform in front of everyone and our parents. No pressure right there._

_I'm to perform my first duel for a solo, and it's against Reed. Whoever wins will take lead with whoever wins between Logan and Blaine. And it all comes down to today._

* * *

The morning of the duels found Kurt up early and in the kitchen making pancakes. There was breakfast in the Dining Hall, but he wanted to stay in the warmth of the House. It was snowing softly outside. After the snow day confinement, Dwight had been very twitchy about snowflakes coming down, while the other boys were incorrigible and ran out the moment they saw the drifts.

He was singing softly to himself, in French, as he cooked, looking almost unbearably quaint as he did so.

_Les rêves des amoureux sont comme le bon vin_

_Ils donnent de la joie ou bien du chagrin_

_Affaibli par la faim je suis malheureux_

_Volant en chemin tout ce que je peux_

_Car rien n'est gratuit dans la vie…_

The young man leaning by the door was smiling as he watched. Finally, he decided to speak up. "_Le Festin?_ You? Seriously?"

Kurt looked up and laughed. "Well you have to admit, it's a little bit fitting. That, and due to severe training, I now have the unbearable ability to get even French songs stuck in my head."

"You're up early," said Blaine, coming into the kitchen, attracted by the smell of actual cooking. It felt as though every other time he found a reason to be there, it was because of black smoke or pungent smells. Some of the boys in Windsor simply didn't know how to exist without a staff waiting on them. Only a handful of them were actually domesticated.

Kurt just smiled. "Yeah. I guess I got a little _too_ excited."

"First duel," Blaine nodded with an understanding grin. He walked up to the counter, resting his guitar onto the side of the stool. Kurt smiled and handed him a plate of pancakes. "Thanks."

"What's with the guitar?" Kurt asked, smiling a bit.

Blaine shrugged. "I've been up late rehearsing, actually… Seeing as how you and Reed barely even stopped singing into the night." He smirked as Kurt looked embarrassed.

"Sorry… I guess we both are just a _little _more anxious about dueling than we'd care to admit. Well…Reed more than me." Kurt sat, sighing. "He _is _actually really good, you know. He doesn't have my range or my, well…_diva _but he's, you know…charming." He shrugged. "And at the same time, it's my first one too. The last time you guys have heard me sing was when I auditioned, so I think I have some expectations to surpass."

"I know what you mean…" Blained laughed. "You know, I could barely sleep back before my first one. I felt beating Wes and David for convincing me to go through with it. But I went and sang anyway."

"What did you sing?"

Blaine smiled, leaning forward onto the counter. "You want to hear it?"

Kurt blinked, pleasantly surprised. He leaned behind him and turned off the stove. He faced Blaine again, who was strapping on his guitar, and Kurt leaned forward. "Let's hear it, then."

"You remember what I told you?" Blaine said as he adjusted, "About the situation I was in, which was why I came here?"

"Yeah…"

"Well, it kind of comes from that. What I might have wanted to hear… And…I've been thinking maybe I ought to have sung this to you at some point. Just to…just to help, I mean." He made an awkward cough turning red. "I know it's been rough on you and the song is…I mean not really in the sense that…well…" He waved it off. "In any case, just listen to it."

Kurt flushed. He turned his eyes away for a moment, and then glanced back as Blaine started to play, guitar strums being the only sound in the morning air. The older boy carefully lifted his eyes to him, and began to sing.

_I've been alone_

_Surrounded by darkness…_

_and I've seen how heartless_

_The world can be…_

_And I've seen you crying_

_You felt like it's hopeless…_

_I'll always do my best_

_To make you see…_

Kurt sat gazing at Blaine with wonder as he sang. It wasn't just his voice, or how well he played—it was his music and his words that reached out to him.

_Baby you're not alone_

_'Cause you're here with me_

_And nothing's ever gonna bring us down_

_'Cause nothing can keep me from lovin' you…_

_And you know it's true_

_It don't matter what'll come to be_

_Our love is all we need to make it through…_

Blaine flashed him a small smile as he sang and Kurt flushed to the roots of his hair. He ducked his gaze, smiling. At least now, he had no doubts. He was the only person in the room, and Blaine was singing to him. He was singing a song just for him.

_Now I know it ain't easy_

_But it ain't hard trying…_

_Every time I see you smiling_

_And I feel you so close to me_

_Tell me…_

Kurt bit his lip to stop from smiling any more than he already was. Blaine seemed to enjoy this, and grinned at him bit more. Distantly, he wondered if this was how the boys felt whenever their girlfriends sang to them.

He lifted his eyes and met Blaine's again.

_Now I still have trouble_

_I trip and stumble_

_Trying to make sense of things some times_

_I look for reasons_

_But I don't need 'em_

_All I need is to look in your eyes_

_And I realize…_

_Baby you're not alone _

_'Cause you're here with me…_

As the song started to come to a close, Kurt was simply unable to keep his eyes off him. Blaine hadn't been looking at him the whole time, but at some point in the end, as he ended the song, he caught Kurt's gaze again and it remained there.

In the silence that followed, Blaine smiled and rested his hand on the counter. His fingertips lay just inches away from Kurt's. The other boy just stared at him.

After a few moments of this, Blaine smiled a bit more. "Well…? Aren't you going to say anything?"

Kurt came to. "Oh…yeah, I mean… It was…" What does a person say after hearing something like that? He felt like Finn, looking for words, and he simply found none that sufficed. There was too much to say and too little time to think. So he just laughed a little and said, "Well…if you sang that, then you definitely must've won."

"I did, yeah," Blaine admitted. "That was my "dueling" song for last year's Music Fest. And it got me my spot as lead." He put down the guitar. "Of course I can't sing that again this year. Still trying to work that out."

Kurt gazed at him for a moment, deliberating within himself what he was about to do. But it was Blaine and that song…he felt as though he just wanted to keep that song and that kind of moment just for himself. If he couldn't have Blaine as a boyfriend, as a lover…couldn't he have just that? And maybe…

"Please sing with me."

Blaine looked up, surprised. Kurt forced a laugh. "Uh…I just… Well Medel told me that if I planned on really getting some leverage, I should sing duet. I mean because everyone does a solo and the point of the two leads is for a duet. It would make sense to duel as a pair. Right?" He sure hoped so, because he was pretty sure he was just nonchalantly rambling on by now.

He looked at Blaine, who seemed to be considering this. He quickly said, "It's just an idea. I've seen how you and Logan look like you prefer to personally rip each other's throats off and I wouldn't want to get in the crossfire."

"Nothing that severe." Blaine smiled. "The duet idea, though… sounds great. I've never actually seen anyone duel like that and it sounds…interesting." He grinned. "That, and I'd love to sing with you."

"Great!" Kurt exhaled as though he felt all life would exit him at that moment. "We're set, then."

"Good." Blaine stood up, picking up the guitar. "Talk about it on the way to class?"

"Sure," Kurt nodded. Blaine grinned and left, closing the kitchen door behind him. As soon as he was gone, Kurt sank his head onto the tile countertop in relief. _I can't believe I asked. And I believe he said he'd do it! Alright then, Whoever-Is-Up-There-If-There-is-Even-Anyone…you get a point._

From where he had closed the door, Blaine walked to the entrance hall, leaned back on the wall and groaned as he slid down it onto the floor. "…great job, Blaine," he muttered. "_Sing_ to him and all that." _"Would you like to hear it?" I said. He looked like someone hit him in the face! With a million other songs on the planet, it had to be that one. And then he asked me to duet. Wow, there goes all my concentration for the rest of the day… _He groaned. "I thought I said I wasn't going to do this…?"

He heard a sound. He knew that sound—it was the sound of slush dripping onto the floor. He slowly looked up from where he was, praying to anyone listening up there that it was not what he thought it was.

Wes, David and the twins stood there along with some other Windsor boys, still in their wet coats and shoes, each and every single one smirking mercilessly at him.

Blaine stared. "…please tell me…that you did _not_ hear _all of that_."

"We've actually been here since the song," said Wes sweetly.

"We found it unbelievably _charming_ of you, Blaine," added David.

Evan was grinning from ear to ear, "And of course you'll have our Alice…" he took his twin's hand, gave him a dramatic dance twirl and Ethan pretended to faint into his arms, "…falling into your arms in no time!"

"Oh for the love of—!" Blaine just ducked as the boys in the hall exploded into laughter and catcalls.

* * *

"Kurt, you're starting to worry me," Reed said, raising an eyebrow as he sat with Kurt in the sunny cafeteria during lunch period. "You haven't stopped _smiling _all morning and I think that's why Murdoch gave us so much homework!"

"What are you talking about?" Kurt answered, giving him an incredulous look. He stabbed at his salad. "I haven't been acting differently," he added, glancing to the door.

"Waiting for someone?" Reed smirked as he observed.

"Just…wondering about the other guys, they should be here by now. Where are they?"

"Oh…" Reed sighed. "They're hatching a plan."

"For what?" Kurt asked, looking at him.

"Oh, it's Dwight's birthday," Reed answered. "Apparently, he locks himself up when that happens, so the others coax him out with some…persuasion."

Kurt wasn't sure about what to think of that, but said nothing. He smiled at Reed. "So, are you ready?"

"I think so…" Reed fidgeted. "I've just really been practicing."

"I know, I heard you. You'll do fine." Kurt rolled his eyes. "Don't be so nervous."

Reed smirked. "I heard about you and Blaine dueling with a duet, you know. Are _you_ nervous?"

Kurt choked on his latte but shot him an incredulous look. "Why should I be?"

"Because you like him? And that if you lose you won't get to sing opposite him?" Reed grinned. "Honestly, Kurt—I don't see why you and he won't just come out with it."

"I understand that we've already come out."

"I'm serious," said Reed. "I think Blaine likes you."

"We're friends, Reed," Kurt sighed after swallowing a bite of lettuce. "And he just…he's more like a teacher to me than a boyfriend."

"Doesn't change the fact that you _want_ him to be your boyfriend," Reed said happily.

Kurt rolled his eyes. "Ha ha, very funny."

"Well you like him, he likes you, you're going to sing together. I can hardly wait."

"And you are about to have your first solo, Reed. And _that_, I would like to see."

* * *

"Dwight!" "Dwight!"

The voices pounding at his door sounded terrified and desperate. Instantly grabbing his holy water spray and pulling on a few more pendants, he grabbed a bag of blessed rock salt and shoved it into his pocket before running to the door, tearing it open. "What? What? What's happening?"

"Dwight—" David looked like he was going to die, he was breathing so hard and he was white in the face. "—Dwight, you know the old greenhouse at the West Corner? Where the low fence going into the wood is?"

"Yeah…" Dwight turned pale, hands turning cold.

"Well…" Wes gulped, gasping for air, "David and I—twins dared us to get that statuette in the fountain—"

Dwight looked horrified. "The replica of Angel Uriel?"

"That one—Wes he—he grabbed it—" And here Wes held up a small stone statue of a female angel with wings, looking time worn. Dwight backed away from it like it was radioactive.

"And then all this black stuff started to pour into the fountain!" Wes cried, flailing the statue around. " What do we do, Dwight? What's happening?"

"You unlocked a _seal_, that's what!" Dwight howled back, furious. "How many times do I have to tell you people to not _move_ any ornament more than fifteen years old in this campus? Stay there!" He ducked back into his room to grab his emergencies-only stash of some of the most formidable weapons against malignant specters.

He didn't see Wes and David shoot each other a look. They looked pale and scared when Dwight turned back to them. "All right, take me to that fountain and tell me where exactly and what position you found the statuette in." He grabbed it from Wes' hand and carefully wrapped it.

"What—you're going out there?" David gasped. "Don't do it, Dwight! What if there's something dangerous in that water?"

"I have to go," Dwight said seriously, in the tone of a warrior on a noble cause. "I mean, it's scary as hell and I'm totally about to wet my pants as we speak, but if I can't let whatever it is take the campus! It's what the Winchesters would've done!" And with a dramatic flounce of his coat, he ran down the hall.

David and Wes looked at each other and grinned. They ran down the hall after him, David muttering into his cufflink. "All right, boys, the Auror is out of the Ministry. It's all yours."

Dwight threw himself outside Windsor doors, with Wes and David running after him, the doors swinging open as they went.

Silence fell in Windsor. The two doors swung backward to reveal the twins standing behind them with identical Cheshire grins. Evan said, "Wes and David aren't bad."

"No, they are not," Ethan agreed. The twins glanced behind them and Ethan took out a walkie talkie. "Alright, boys! Bring it all in! Set it all up!"

A veritable mass of men started pouring into Windsor, carrying massive party decorations, drinks, food, furnishings and the like. The Windsor boys in the dorm started to help out as well, hauling things indoors. Everything looked rather dark and menacing, and when Blaine walked in, looking confused, he turned to the twins. "I thought we were going to do Left 4 Dead."

"We decided that would be too easy for Dwight," said Evan happily. "So Silent Hill it is."

"You should see our animatronic Pyramid Head," grinned Ethan, ignoring the mass of people milling around.

"And the waitresses who look like the nurses."

"And the peeling flesh walls."

"And I can't wait for him to find the eyeballs in the bloody punch."

"I don't know if you're trying to make him happy or trying to kill him with fright," said Blaine, shaking his head as he headed upstairs. "Tell Wes and David not to go overboard."

"Well, they won't be back until practice—they're going to send Dwight on a wild goose chase first to kill time until we all get out of Warblers." The twins looked up at him, "Aren't you joining the fun, Acting Prefect?"

"I'll catch up," he answered. "I have to go rehearse with Kurt for the duel."

"You're talking about singing with him, though, right?" grinned Evan. "Not intercourse?"

"You kissed him yet?" Ethan yelled. "You keep looking at his lips when he talks!"

"I hope you both choke on an insect-coated candy apple!" Blaine called cheerily back from upstairs.

The twins grinned and checked their lists. "We did get some of those, right?"

* * *

Blaine and Kurt were walking down the corridors after their rehearsal, in the hall. They were rather certain that it would be something interesting, at least, for all the Warblers.

It was Blaine who suggested doing a bit of theatrics for the song, sensing that was what Medel was looking for after her hint of pizzazz to Kurt. It was Kurt who chose the song, saying that he'd wanted to try it out just once, but never found a partner willing to do it.

All the same, they both found something in the song that meant something to them, though they decided not to tell the other this. Practice had been done with very little of the acting, nevertheless. The real game begins during duels.

The Warblers arrived all present and early to the hall in recognition of the duel's magnitude. With a battle between Blaine and Logan, and then one between Kurt and Reed, it promised to be quite a spectacle. A few Hanover Warblers claimed hearing Blaine and Kurt singing—but only one song.

The moment Kurt walked in, someone grabbed his elbow. It was Logan.

"Can I talk to you for a minute?" he asked. Kurt stared up at him—he had seen that look in his eyes before. It was during Sectionals, when he asked to be trusted. Apprehensive, Kurt glanced to Blaine a moment. "Um…"

Blaine stared hard a Logan, looked at Kurt and said, "I'll wait with the others."

Kurt nodded. And though Blaine may have walked to where a tired-looking Wes and David sat, he kept his eyes on the two talking low in the corner of the Hall. "What's that about?" asked David.

"I don't know," Blaine answered, gazing at them.

At the corner, Logan looked at Kurt and said, "I wanted to formally apologize… I didn't get to back when we talked during the storm."

"Apologize for what?" Kurt inquired, crossing his arms.

"For…exploding. During Sectionals. I just…" Logan sighed and gestured helplessly. "I get angry. Really easily."

Kurt's expression remained neutral. Logan swallowed and continued, "I shouldn't have accused you without knowing what was going on…but you have to admit, you did the same to me. Everything you've heard about me is still second-hand information."

"Logan…" Kurt shook his head, shifting his weight.

"_One_ chance, Kurt," Logan said, looking intently at him. "Please. …please don't let me be too late."

"Too late to what?" Kurt asked, confused.

Logan looked at him with grim determination. He reached out and took one of Kurt's hands. "Kurt—I know you're not going to believe me, because quite frankly, I don't either—but hear me out. I have to tell you something."

Kurt looked at him, thoroughly unsure of what was going on, but at that instant, Harvey walked in. "All right everyone. Please settle down."

Logan clenched his fist but said nothing. He released Kurt immediately. Blaine was halfway to getting out of his seat, but he sat back down when he saw Kurt head back towards where they were sitting.

"What did he want?" asked David as soon as Kurt sat with them.

"Just to talk," Kurt said, still confused. "He said he wanted to tell me something."

Blaine turned immediately to Logan, who was not looking at him.

Sylvia walked to the piano and Greg took control, looking over the mass of the boys waiting for the singing battle.

"All right. Without further ado, let's begin the duels. Will Logan, Blaine, Kurt and Reed come forward please?"

Reed made a barely heard sound of surrender. Kurt grinned and grabbed his friend's hand, pulling him towards the front. Logan and Blaine followed, and they each drew a marble from the bag held out by the choir director. Logan once again earned the red marble. He would go first.

"We begin with the first soloists," said Greg with a nod.

As Logan went to the front, taking his spot, he kept his eyes on Kurt long enough for Kurt to be aware that he was doing this on purpose. Logan sat on the piano and seemed to consider what he was about to do for a moment, before laying his hands on the keys and beginning to play.

His playing was flawless as they had always been, but there was a new emotion in his vocal tone.

_I saw you there_

_And looked you straight between the eyes_

_And said I'm leaving_

_And I don't care_

_And I don't know if they were lies_

_But I don't need them…_

_Cause standing still _

_Isn't easy …_

_When the world's moving backwards_

_The world's moving backwards_

_So get your fill _

_But please believe me_

_That the world's moving backwards …_

_The world's moving backwards…_

The Warblers were pleasantly surprised. Even Wes had to admit that after the blatant forwardness of the Aerosmith song he had sung last time, there was a subtle message in this rendition of a Ben Rector song, and sung marvelously with the use of words and the color of Logan's tones.

This wasn't lost on Kurt, who was deep in thought. Was this what Logan was trying to say? Was he trying to apologize after what happened? Their eyes met.

_So I pray that you'll give me grace if you can hear me_

_That you'll give me grace if you can hear me_

_And I pray that you'll give us grace if you can hear me_

_You'll give us grace_

_You'll give us grace_

_You'll give us grace…_

At the high note, the Warblers sat up, looking deeply fascinated, some of them starting to smile with exclamations of impressed voices. This was definitely the Logan who was their lead singer from many performances ago. Blaine simply kept watching neutrally.

"Got his game face on," David nodded, Reed biting his nails.

Kurt watched, somehow impressed by such a performance.

_Cause standing still _

_Isn't easy …_

_When the world's moving backwards_

_The world's moving backwards_

_So get your fill _

_But please believe me_

_That the world's moving backwards …_

_The world's moving backwards…_

The song came to a close. As soon as the last delicate notes faded, the Hall burst into applause with more conviction than last time. Greg and Sylvia also applauded, congratulating him with their eyes. Logan smiled at the others, turned to Kurt and nodded.

Kurt sighed and nodded back slightly, clapping for him as well. He _did _do more wonderfully than he'd heard before. _So this is the Logan they talk about…_

Sylvia stood again. "Blaine? It's your turn."

"Ms Medel?" Blaine said as he rose with Kurt, "if you all don't mind… Kurt and I have planned to perform together."

The Warblers nearly broke their necks with how fast they turned at this, looking up at him in surprise. Even Logan looked stunned from where he sat. The two professors seemed to discuss for a moment, and then nodded. Greg looked at the two. "Proceed."

Kurt and Blaine gave each other relieved glances and proceeded to go up front. Blaine hurried up to Sylvia and whispered something to her. She looked surprised, but nodded and turned to the piano. She would play for them. Then Kurt and Blaine stood apart from each other, on either end of the performance area, the lights dimming for a moment, under Wesley's control.

When Sylvia began to play, a soft light came on to Blaine as he looked up and began to sing, "_I should tell you I'm disaster… I forget how to begin it…"_

Kurt appeared into the spot of light, taking Blaine's hand carefully, looking at him in pleading, concerned, "_Let's just make this part go faster… I have yet to be in it... I should tell you…"_

"_I should tell you…" _Blaine reached up and held Kurt's hands.

"_I should tell you…_" Kurt glanced away a moment.

"_I should tell you…_"

In the minds of all the Warblers—one word flashed: _Rent._

Blaine and Kurt were performing Rent. Everyone immediately sat up to pay stunned attention to the pair in front of them, performing Roger and Mimi's duet. As the Windsor boys' jaws dropped, not having expected this, Logan's heart sank at the realization.

Kurt sang, looking up at Blaine, "_I should tell I blew the candle out just to get back in…"_

"_I'd forgotten how to smile until your candle burned my skin…_" Blaine admitted with a faint smile.

"_I should tell you…"_

"_I should tell you…_"

"_I should tell you…"_

"_I should tell you…"_ their voices came together in harmony, rising in hope, looking intently at each other, standing close. The light began to illuminate the room again. They were almost smiling, nervous, hopeful, afraid:

"_Well here we go…now we…"_

"…_oh no…_" Kurt lowered his eyes.

Blaine tried to catch his eye again, making him look up at him. "_I know—this something is—here goes—_"

"_Here goes…_" Kurt began to smile, Blaine doing the same.

"_Guess so…It's starting__ to__—Who knows…_"

"_Who knows…"_

Hands held, their voices began to rise again, filling the room:

"_Who knows where…Who goes there…Who knows…Here goes…__"_

Blaine released Kurt's hands and they almost dance as they move, singing to one another.

"_Trusting desire—__starting to learn…_

_Walking through fire without a burn…_

_Clinging—A shoulder a leap begins…_

_Stinging and older , asleep on pins…_

_So here we go…_"

The song softly began to close, their hands carefully holding as they stood in front of one another.

"_Who knows where - who goes there_

_Here goes - Here goes…"_

Silence fell in the room as the song ended. The two in the middle stared at each other, as though lost for just one moment. Then they seemed to come to their senses and tore their gazes away with awkward smiles.

The Warblers were all in shock at the unprecedented performance. Kurt and Blaine looked up at them, blinking into the light. And then Sylvia leapt to her feet, losing all propriety in spite of herself, and began clapping. The Warblers erupted into applause and laughter—with some of the obligatory cheers, hoots and catcalls.

"Yeah!" Wes yelled, clapping hard as David laughed. "_That_'s a performance!"

Bright scarlet, Kurt dropped his gaze a little, laughing softly to himself. He glanced to Blaine and saw him grinning back at him. "We did say all or nothing…" Blaine said.

Kurt nodded with a laugh and the two made deeply exaggerated bows to their teammates. Kurt pretended to wave them on as they pretended to throw flowers. Blaine just stood and laughed, bowing deeply to the others.

"All right, settle, settle…" Greg smirked at them. He looked at Blaine and Kurt, saying, "You two certainly put on something…new…"

The two just grinned up at him. Greg now looked up. "Which brings us to the final competitor, another first-timer—Reed."

The Warblers all turned to look at the boy who looked pale with fright. Kurt got up and gave him a hug before urging him on. Some of the boys clapped encouragingly. Each of them had been waiting for this, hoping to hear Reed sing solo for the first time. They had always heard him as chorus vocal, and this was his defining moment.

Reed was intimidated by Logan, Blaine and Kurt, but his friends in Windsor nodded encouragingly at him, and he smiled tremulously. He was unnerved and it was obvious. He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. He hesitated for so long that Greg and Sylvia looked at each other, rather concerned.

In a burst of inspiration, Blaine suddenly got up and snatched up an acoustic guitar from the instrument rack. He ran to the front and asked Reed something, and Reed answered. Blaine nodded and motioned for Wes and David to come down. The three of them prepared to back Reed up, smiling at him.

Reed laughed a little, grateful, and turned to the audience with a bit more confidence. As the music started, he deep breath, and began to sing.

_I'm driving around town_

_Kinda bored with the windows rolled down_

_See a girl on the bus stop bench_

_Dressed to draw attention…_

_Hoping everyone will stare_

_If she don't stand out she thinks she'll disappear_

_Wish I could hold her, tell her, show her_

_What she wants is already there…_

Kurt was smiling so much he couldn't stop if he tried. He watched as Reed smiled up at his teammates and continued to sing the country song with his own tones and take on the words.

_A star is a star_

_It doesn't have to try to shine…_

_Water will fall_

_A bird just knows how to fly…_

_You don't have to tell a flower how to bloom_

_Or light how to fill up a room…_

_You already are what you are_

_And what you are is beautiful…_

And Kurt realized, the song was meant for Reed himself. He was singing it for his sake, as he enjoyed the thing he loved the most at this moment—singing. Even the other Warblers could feel the conviction in his voice, and, moved by the music that Blaine, Wes and David were playing, were starting to move along to the beat unconsciously.

_(You'd say) Gravity is gravity_

_It doesn't try to pull you down…_

_Stone is stone_

_It can't help but hold its ground…_

_The wind just blows, though you can't see_

_It's everywhere like I'll always be…_

_You already are what you are_

_And what you are is strong enough…_

The song came to an end. And the Warblers burst into the loudest applause of the day yet, with Blaine, Kurt and even Logan, applauding along with everyone else. They cheered and threw music sheets. "Damn, Reed, good job! Yeah! Way to go, Reed! Encore, encore!"

Reed stood in the middle of it all, looking as though he were about to cry, smiling up at them. The Windsor boys descended on him, grabbing him into hugs and patting his shoulders heavily. Reed just laughed, shaking his head.

Sylvia looked like a mother who just saw her child walking—astonished and delighted. "Reed, we had no idea!" she exclaimed.

Greg nodded, smiling a little and clapping along with the other boys before saying, "All right…all of you. Settle down, settle down. A great job from all of you—each one bringing something different. Now it's time for the Warblers to decide who gets to be first and second lead."

Reed sat back down next to Kurt and the two of them grinned at each other.

* * *

"We have come to the vote," said Sylvia. But she looked strange, as though trying not to laugh.

"We have our first and second leads," said Greg, who kept the poker face up better than she did. Kurt looked around and saw that a lot of the Warblers were grinning ear to ear, jostling each other's elbows as though they knew an inside joke.

Kurt looked at Blaine, who just shrugged, not knowing either.

Greg cleared his throat. "As it would appear from the names written on the votes… Our first and second leads are…" He looked at the slip of paper and held it out, as though evidence. "Kurt and Reed."

The room burst into cheers of triumph as the boys leapt from their seats.

"What?" burst out Kurt, looking around in confusion at the announcement. "Wait—how is that possible?"

"Mr. Harvey—Kurt and I are both second lead!" said Reed, looking utterly blown away. "Why are we the pair?"

"Why don't you ask them…?" Harvey sighed, motioning to the cheering boys—Blaine and Logan could do no more than just laugh at this. "When Sylvia and I were checking the slips, they all had the name of the first and second they voted for, but underneath, everyone wrote "but if you could make it Kurt and Reed, then it's them"."

"_What_?" Kurt looked at the twins, who were falling to the floor in laughter.

Evan was gasping for air. "I knew they'd bite! I knew it!"

"We figured the two of you would look adorable onstage together!" said Ethan.

"Alice and the Dormouse! This should be awesome!"

"We told everyone—they loved the idea!"

"No offense, though, Blaine, they loved your performance," said Ethan quickly.

"But you've got to admit, our two first-timers knocked it out of the ballpark and they should get at least a shot."

"Besides, you and Logan have gotten the lead _so many times_…"

More near-hysteric laughter followed, leading Kurt to question all their sanities. He looked at Reed, who just looked befuddled, and said, "We…we're performing in front for the Winter Fest…I don't believe it."

* * *

It was dark and the Warblers trooped out to their Houses respectively, still talking about what they could make two small soloists "do" for the fest, which included having them sing all sorts of girl band songs. Kurt shook his head—when he fantasized about getting the lead, he didn't think it would be _this_ way. And because it was Dwight's birthday, Windsor felt generous enough to invite Stuart and Hanover over to their house for the celebration.

When Dwight—after being misled by many many clues that had been left for him around campus by Wes, David and the Twins (it was supposedly an "ancient puzzle" that unlocks secrets within school)—finally managed to get back to the house, he looked furious.

Until…

"_Happy Birthday, Dwight!_" the entire group yelled as the draggled spiritualist walked in. The entire house was frankly terrifying—it looked like something out of Silent Hill all right, with the twins sparing no expense. Dwight stood, staring with wide eyes and looking shell shocked.

"What…the…hell…" he gaped.

The Windsor boys scooped him up and started tossing him around the crowd. "Give him to Pyramid Head!" some of the boys started yelling. And the celebrant, who was both happy and horrified, was yelling as they led him near the giant animatronic monster.

"How can they still have all that energy…?" Kurt wondered aloud. Blaine, who stood next to him, said, "We don't think they're human anymore."

"They? Aren't you one of them?" Kurt grinned.

"So are you," Blaine laughed.

"Fair enough." Kurt got up from the couch, hoping to get some punch when he felt his phone vibrate.

It was a message from Mercedes.

_Kurt, meet me outside, ASAP._

"What is it?" asked Blaine.

"It's Mercedes—she wants to see me outside. She's out by the gate, I guess." Kurt's brow furrowed.

"It's a bit late, isn't it?" said Blaine, concerned. "Want me to come with you?"

"No, I'll go see her, it might be important or private or something." Kurt immediately grabbed his coat, leaving his things on the couch.

"Are you sure?" asked Blaine.

"Yeah! Be back with her." Kurt fled the house.

Blaine was a little worried at the suddenness of the visit, but he looked around and spotted Logan among the guests, and for some reason, that eased his mind somewhat. At least Logan didn't follow Kurt outside. He tried to control the madness in the house for a few moments until he realized it was futile and let the boys throw the candy eyeballs around.

His own phone started to ring, and he picked it up. "Hello?"

"_Blaine? This is Rachel! I got your number from Mercedes! It's an emergency and Kurt isn't—"_

"Rachel? Wait—Kurt already left to see—"

"_Kurt's not answering his phone! Blaine, Mercedes said that she forgot her phone on the courtyard—and Mike __just __told me that he saw it—"_

Blaine's blood turned ice cold.

"—_with Karofsky!_"

* * *

_On the next episode: The longest fifteen minutes of Kurt's life by far, where many things are said and done._


	11. Boundaries

_Hi, I'm C Coulter, your writer for this fic._

_The previous episode had so many reviews and hits that I thought had a glitch. Once again, I cannot emphasize how grateful I am to the attentions you have given my fic, your kind words of support and encouragement. I will be thinking about all of your well wishes as I go to competition. I am grateful to the people in tumblr, livejournal and gleeforum for being so good to me and to my work. _

_In a few hours, I'll be taking my flight to Singapore and from there, updates for the weekend look foggy. I'll be back by Monday early, and I hope to be able to produce another episode by then... But if I'm fortunate, I will be able to put one up during the weekend. I'm afraid I can't give much notice for that-the alerts will let you know anyway. Again, I wish everyone the best and my thanks goes out to all of you._

_I hope you like this episode. :)_

_(**I do not own Glee.** It wouldn't be as wonderful if I owned Glee.)_

* * *

**Dalton**

**Episode 11: Boundaries**

* * *

_I'm Kurt. And this is Dalton Academy._

_I just won the lead in our next performance in the Warblers. And so did my friend Reed._

_We were celebrating Dwight's birthday, winding down the long day._

_But if you had told me that this was going to happen before the night was out…_

…_I would've never believed you._

* * *

"Hey, Mercedes—don't forget to invite Kurt over for a Christmas party, okay?" Tina said as the Glee club ended practice and we packing up. Practice ran late—they had been doing Christmas songs. They had the distinct feeling that Schuester was going to strut them out and make them go caroling.

"Yeah, he might want to come along when we crash Mr. Schuester's house," Puck added, putting away his guitar.

"Breaking and entering is part of the Christmas spirit now?" Quinn raised an eyebrow.

"Come on, you guys, Mr. Schuester's divorced and Ms. Pillsbury got married," Rachel said, straightening up the music sheets. "It's Christmas and no one should be alone."

"I'm definitely sure that he'll be on board—you know he can't stay away," Mercedes grinned. "Hang on, let me go call him or something." She fished inside her bag as the boys pushed back the chairs. She rummaged around with a frown until she muttered, "Where the heck is my phone?"

"You were holding it back at the courtyard during lunch," Artie said, blinking. "Where'd you put it?"

Mercedes groaned. "I took out my sheet music because Rachel kept saying that she's the only one who could hit the high note. I think I must've put it down there and forgot to pick it up after the football team slushied us for the second time."

"Ugh—don't remind me, I still have food coloring behind my ears," Tina grumbled.

Mike suddenly spoke up, "In the courtyard?" He looked a bit lost in thought. "Is it silver with a bling dangle with the letter M?"

"Yes!" said Mercedes, looking up. "You found it?"

Mike looked uncomfortable. Tina looked at him. "What?"

After a terse pause, Mike said, "I was in the locker room—I heard the other guys talking. I saw Karofsky at his locker, and he had that phone—I thought it was weird that he did, it wasn't even his initials—"

"Karofsky has my _phone_?" Mercedes demanded. "Look, slushies are one thing, but if he knew that was _my_ phone, then that's just _stealing_—"

"Why would he take your phone?" Santana snorted.

Quinn looked back at Sam. "Can you make him give it back?"

"I could," Puck said with a growl, getting up. "I'm the only one allowed to steal from you guys."

"Wait—wait, you guys!" Rachel suddenly exclaimed, making them all look at her. She was white as a sheet and staring far off, looking as though something just occurred to her. "He's got something in his head. You guys, you said it yourselves—why would he take that phone?"

"Because he's a douchebag?" Puck suggested.

"Not that!" Rachel was digging through her bag frantically. "Mercedes—tell me you know that guy's number. You know—that guy from Dalton Kurt's always with."

"Blaine?" Mercedes looked confused as she looked down to her notes. "Yeah, I wrote it down when Kurt gave it to me—why?"

Rachel looked up, a grim look on her face. "I don't know if I'm being neurotic after watching all those splatter films with Finn, but I'm not taking any chances." She was drumming her fingers nervously onto the piano. She made an impatient, anxious noise. "Kurt's not answering his phone. Mercedes, give me that number."

"What—? What's going on?" Mercedes handed it to her, confused.

"What are you doing, Rachel?" Finn finally asked, brow furrowed as he walked up to the others.

Rachel looked at him, swallowing hard as she punched in the number and held the phone to her ear. "Mercedes is the one who's always in contact with Kurt. And...and I just have this terrible feeling that Karofsky may have stolen that phone to find him."

"What…?" Finn turned pale.

"Blaine? This is Rachel. I got your number from Mercedes! It's an emergency and Kurt isn't—" In the silence of the room, they heard the boy on the other end answer, confused.

"_Rachel? Wait—Kurt already left to see—"_

"Kurt's not answering his phone!" Rachel blurted out. "Blaine, Mercedes said that she forgot her phone on the courtyard—and Mike just told me that he saw it—with Karofsky!"

The silence on the other end told them everything. "Blaine, please tell me Kurt's there," Rachel whispered.

There was the hiss of a curse and then: "_He's gone—Kurt's gone,__ he—" _his voice was shaking,_"—he thought he __got a text from—I'm going now__—_" And the line died.

Finn came to life and sprinted out of the room at full speed, with Puck and Mike tearing after him. "Let's go, come on!" Rachel cried as the girls rushed after them.

* * *

Dalton had its very own charm at night. With all of its archaic architecture, ornamental gardens that transformed during the seasons, it was dim without being foreboding (as opposed to Dwight's claims that mentioned that Dalton looked like the college out of the Exorcism of Emily Rose at night).

Hurrying through the crisp winter air, past ornate lamps that lit the Dalton walkways in their orange glow, Kurt looked around frantically for any sign of his friend. "Mercedes!" he called. He ran along the South and Main, hoping to spot her somewhere at the iron railings or gates.

He hugged his coat closer onto himself, squinting in the wind and into the gloom. "Mercedes, where are you?" He dug into his pockets to look for his phone, until he realized that he must have left it on the couch back at Windsor with his other things.

He groaned and rolled his eyes. "Great…" He resumed his brisk stride, jogging along the path to warm himself somewhat. "Mercedes!" he called as he came up to one of the annex buildings. "Hey, what is going on he—"

A figure in a familiar jacket came around the annex building corner. Kurt's heart plunged and he skidded to a stop with a gasp, paralyzed. Karofsky was striding up to him with an intent look on his face. With a choke, Kurt turned to run.

A powerful, vise-like grip closed onto his elbow and pulled him back with great strength. Kurt nearly flew off his feet as Karofsky grabbed him back and pulled him around the dark corner, shoving him right onto the ivy-covered brick walls.

Before Kurt could even take a breath, a large hand clapped over his mouth. "Shh!" came the urgent hiss. "Be _quiet_!"

Kurt's words were stifled down into a whimper as Karofsky bore down at him, pinning down one of his wrists. The larger boy glowered down at him. "Don't. Scream." He looked at him intently, eyes hard. "…I'm not here for what you think, Hummel. But if you scream, so help me, I'll—"

"_Kurt!_"

Kurt's eyes went wide as he heard Blaine's voice carrying from across grounds, over the wind. Karofsky looked up. From where they were, they were out of view, but they could hear the sound of feet running over the grounds. "Kurt, _where are you_?" Blaine was crying out desperately from the distance.

"Kurt!" Wes and David's footfalls were sounding after Blaine's, alarmed. "Kurt, where are you, man?"

"This way—!" he heard one of the twins say.

Kurt choked out from where he was, looking up at Karofsky in terror.

"I think I heard something!" Even Logan was running.

Karofsky immediately turned back to Kurt and grabbed his shoulder, keeping his hand on his mouth. He pushed him into a dark alcove—like a dead end alley—between two buildings, where everything was pitch black.

* * *

"Kurt, where are you!" Blaine cried over the dark. His heart was in his throat pounding so hard he felt that he would throw up if a matter of minutes. He saw nothing over the grounds—no movement. Kurt had just evaporated into thin air after walking out of Windsor.

When Rachel had said that terrible name over the phone, he thought he was having heart failure. He hissed a curse under his breath as the worst scenarios came flying through his mind. It must have shown on his face and on his entire body, because Logan, who had been watching him, now frowned and began to approach. But it was Wes and David who reached him first.

"Blaine, what's wrong, man? You look like someone died," David said, worried.

Blaine had choked out into the phone, "He's gone—Kurt's gone, he—" he took a shaking breath. "—he thought he got a text from—I'm going now." And he threw off his phone and broke into a run.

"Whoa!" Wes exclaimed, chasing after him as he pushed through the bodies crowded in the party hall. "Blaine! Blaine, wait—what's going on?"

"That jock from McKinley—!" Blaine had rushed past his schoolmates, who looked baffled at their haste. "I think he just called Kurt from someone else's number and he's called him outside!"

"_Shit_!" David hissed in horror. The twins came running down from the staircase, seeing their alarm and looking confused. "Come on!" Wes shouted to them as they leapt over the banisters and followed.

Blaine rushed out the doors. "Kurt!" he cried out the moment he hit the outside air. His fists were clenched and he raced through the grounds, praying desperately that he wasn't too late.

They were a couple of yards off when Dwight and Reed, having seen their frantic exodus, arrived at the door, breathless.

"What's happening?" Dwight gasped, watching them go.

"I don't know—but we better help!" Reed said, running out into the night air.

Dwight hesitated for only a moment, and at that moment Logan reached him. Logan had seen Blaine and the others and immediately came running out. "Dwight—what happened?"

"Something about Kurt being in trouble—Blaine and the others just tore out of here!"

Logan turned back to the house. "Justin! Justin—come here!"

At this, a tall brown-haired boy in a red Dalton pullover looked up, confused. "What—?"

"You're the Hanover prefect, right—keep an eye on this madhouse! We've got an emergency!" Logan fled the house, calling back, "And watch your phone! I'll ring when we need the police!"

"Police?" Dwight cried, and immediately ran after him, leaving the Hanover prefect standing and looked absolutely confused.

That was how all the boys got to where they were running across grounds, searching anxiously for any sign of the new countertenor. Blaine stopped for an instant in the middle of one of the gardens, panting—his breath leaving his lips in heavy clouds. "Which way?" panted David, skidding up next to him.

"I don't know," Blaine panted, looking around desperately. There was just no sign of Kurt anywhere, and it was too dark. He turned to the twins, who came running from another direction. "Any sign of him?"

"No," Evan shook his head, breathing hard.

"Not a damn soul," panted Ethan.

"_Shit_!" Wes snarled, pounding his fist on his knee from where he was bent over. "Where the hell is he?"

* * *

Kurt was waiting for his life to flash before his eyes. That's what everyone said happened when you were looking down potential death, but he couldn't see anything except Karofsky over him, holding his mouth tightly closed with his hand, as he looked around quickly for anyone coming into the short alley.

Then he looked back at Kurt. For the first time, Kurt thought he saw a flicker of fear cross the other boy's face. Karofsky muttered, "All right, Kurt. I'm going to let go of you, all right? But if you so much as even try to scream…" He didn't finish the sentence. It wasn't necessary.

But his next words surprised him. "I'm not going to hurt you." Kurt gave him a confused, disbelieving look, and considering the situation, it was well deserved. Karofsky glared. "I just want to talk. Do you understand? Nod if you understand."

Kurt swallowed and nodded, eyes staring up at him. Karofsky glowered down at him. "Don't scream, I'm telling you…" And very carefully, lifted his hand off Kurt's mouth.

Kurt was breathing hard, heart echoing into his ears, as he stared up at the hulking form in front of him. No matter what Karofsky may have said, there was no way he was putting him past hurting him or worse. He'd already threatened to keep him quiet that way once—he could very well still be serious about it. The truth was, Kurt was so terrified that he couldn't make a sound even if he wanted to.

His heart sank as he realized he could no longer hear the feet of his friends, and that their voices had faded off some distance away. They were looking in the wrong direction.

"Kurt."

He looked back at Karofsky. "I had to get you alone like this. I wasn't in the mood to have to beat down your damn bodyguards." He glared off at the other direction. He had clearly meant the other Windsors, who had formed the first protective barricade around Kurt when they saw Karofsky watching Sectionals.

"What do you want?" Kurt hissed, fear and fury fighting through him in a manner that made him want to hurl. "What are you even _doing_ here?"

Karofsky glowered at him in response. Kurt felt with his hands behind him and only felt brick. There really was no way out. At the sight of his fear, Karofsky only snorted. He glanced around, "Well this is a nice place you ended up into at least. Must be your own personal gay utopia."

"_Why_?" Kurt snorted with the reckless courage of the damned. "Are you hoping to transfer in and make my life hell in here too? I seriously doubt your dead GPA could handle that!"

The hand that smashed to the wall next to his face nearly made him scream and all his strength nearly fled him. "Don't push me, Kurt, I swear, I'll—" Karofsky snarled.

"Or _what_? Punch me? Stab me? Get it over with already and leave me alone! Why are you even following me?"

"Because _you're the_ _only one who knows about me_!"

Those words scared Kurt more than anything else uttered so far. Karofsky stopped leaning down into him and just looked angry, confused and completely lost. He looked as though even _he_ had no idea why he was there. Kurt waited for his hands to stop shaking as he responded, "I didn't tell anyone."

"Yeah? You told your _boyfriend,_" Karofsky spat the last word out as though it were poisoned. "That guy you brought to school. And the rest of those guys looked like they knew. If you didn't tell them, _he_ did. Or that asshole you sent after me during sectionals?"

"_What?_" Kurt stared. "I didn't send anyone after you!"

"So I guess that blond prep snob just decided to prance after me to protect you like some knight in shining armor? Boy, you get around, Kurt—that's two guys after one move!"

Kurt couldn't even process that insult. His mind was stuck on "blond prep snob". It wasn't the twins—they never went without each other. Which left…

"_What happened to your eye?"_

"_It got hit by a fist! Nothing unusual!"_

Kurt's heart stopped. _Logan…?_

* * *

"Kurt!" yelled Blaine over the grounds. Composure was gone a long time ago as the minutes ticked by. It had been ten minutes since Kurt had vanished. A lot could happen in that time. He ran a hand nervously through his hair. "He's just not answering—where is he…?"

"If he was in trouble, wouldn't he scream?" Dwight asked, looking around the darkness, holding a small flashlight that he kept with himself at all times.

David looked grim. "Yes, but…if he was in trouble, he also might not have been given the chance to."

"Shut _up_, David!" Blaine snapped.

"Don't take it out on me, Blaine!" David shot back angrily. "I'm just worried about him as you are!"

"This isn't happening…" Blaine sank his head to his hands, willing himself to be calm, trying and failing. "I didn't think it was that bad when he moved here. I thought if he moved here, he'd be all right. I didn't know that guy had threatened to kill him."

"Why did he suddenly come here…?" Reed asked, fearful as he glanced around. "Kurt hasn't done anything to him!"

"Or maybe someone pissed him off," Evan said darkly, and Ethan looked at Logan.

Wes looked at Logan, then back at them and frowned. "What do you mean?"

The twins just kept staring hard at Logan. Logan glared back at them, still breathing deeply from running. Blaine looked up, his eyes flashing dangerously, and he grabbed the taller boy's lapel with a strong arm. "What did you _do_, Logan?"

"What do you think I did, Blaine?" Logan snarled back, jerking his hand off him. "I did what you couldn't do! I went to him and told him to leave Kurt the hell alone!"

"_What_?" David burst out. "How did you even _know_?"

"I _saw_," Logan said depreciatingly. "I saw how fucking scared to death he looked back onstage when he saw him. I knew that kind of guy would just keep following him so I went after him during Sectionals! I told him to back off!"

"So my _friend_ is out there and it's is all _your_ _fault_?" Wes snarled, lunging at him.

Blaine grabbed Wes back and almost threw him to David. He was the one who stepped forward to Logan with eyes blackened by wrath and voice dangerously low. "Logan…if anything happens to Kurt right now, I swear I will have you _expelled _back to where you came from! I don't care how I do it, but I swear, I will _ruin _you if I have to! You're not doing this again, you hear me?"

"You stand there on your high and mighty pedestal, all but trying to be seen as some _protector_ but all you ever do is hold his hand!" Logan shot back, moving forward. "You can't protect him at every turn, Blaine—I had to do something you didn't have the nerve to do!"

"Hey!" Reed screamed, shoving them off each other. "What is the _matter_ with the both of you? We don't have time for this! Kurt is _out_ there with that psychopath and you're standing here screaming at each other! We don't have time for your crap right now—figure it out later! Right now just _do something_!"

Reed hadn't looked or sounded angrier in his life. Logan glanced at him briefly before glaring back at Blaine, who was pulled away by the twins. Blaine shrugged their hands off and stood with Wes and David. He looked as though he were pulling back all that anger again and just trying to calm down and think rationally. Logan, who had never felt the need to properly control himself, simply stood fuming.

"Easy," David said to Blaine, who was calming down quickly. "Just breathe. Think."

"This can't be happening to me again, David—this just can't—"

"Hey!" Dwight started yelling. "You guys!"

Wes looked up as he came running. He was holding a printed Hérmes stole.

"Where did you find that?" Reed gasped, recognizing it to be the one he'd given Kurt.

"That way." He pointed to the direction of the sprawling Main. He now looked wildly animated and in control. "He must've gone that way. We've got to split up and search around it. I'll take Reed. Wes and David, take Blaine, Tweedles take Logan. I don't want to have to be responsible for having to resurrect them if they end up killing each other—I haven't practiced getting souls back yet."

And as there was no better recourse, the group split up and ran into the gloom.

* * *

Kurt closed his eyes, willing calm to come to him, but it was still a long way from coming. "You threatened to _kill me, _Karofsky. It doesn't _matter_ if they know or who told them, they were just trying to protect me," he said in a low tone. "No one even _knows_ you, or gives a damn about you, in this school."

"Even you?"

If there was a trick question from the Devil, it had to be that one. Kurt didn't even know what context to look at that in, much less answer it. He was trapped in an alley with his ex-tormentor and potential murderer, and he was asking if he_ cared_ about him?

"You're the only one who knows the truth about me, Kurt," Karofsky said in a tone that was almost irritated. "You know what that's like? Keeping all that in, and then one day just having someone strutting around the whole school knowing it—and you're just waiting for the axe to fall."

Kurt glanced away, trying to get all his thoughts settled. He licked his dry lips and swallowed, determined to push down the knot in his insides.

"That day you got me expelled? You were _that_ close," said Karofsky, stepping a little closer. "You were in front of my dad, yours, and Coach Sylvester. You had me in a corner, Kurt. You were _that_ close to destroying _everything_ I built up around me."

Kurt looked up at him, pressing himself to the wall.

Karofsky stopped. "…but you didn't."

The atmosphere seemed to change with that. He raised his eyes to Karofsky and took a deep breath, standing a bit straighter. "It wasn't my secret to tell."

Karofsky stood shaking his head a little, hands shoved into his jacket pockets. "I was so sure you would."

"And like keep telling you…I'm not going to tell."

Silence fell between them.

Kurt lowered his eyes, shifting his feet. "Why are you here, Karofsky? Can't you…can't you just leave me in peace?" He gestured wildly upward. "To some degree, I'm _happy _here. You've won, okay? You've _driven_ me out and ensured your everlasting safety. Is that what you wanted? Some fricking _closure_?"

"No."

That was surprisingly blunt. Kurt fell silent, staring at him.

"You're unbelievably vain," Karofsky glowered at him. "It's always about you, _all the time_. I actually can't _stand_ you. You just went around doing as you pleased all the time back at McKinley. Even when I slushied you, dumped you in a dumpster and shoved you around, you just went on and did whatever you wanted. You just didn't give a damn. I bet around here, you still do just that."

Kurt flushed with anger. "I—"

"Don't you get it? You're actually the only other person in McKinley who would have even the tiniest idea of how I feel!" Karofsky suddenly said. "You're the only out gay kid in McKinley! You scream it all the time! And now you're gone. The entire Kurt Hummel Gay Extravaganza show just moved house. Which left just me in McKinley. And I'm not even out."

"What are you trying to tell me here? Are you just trying to insult me, or—"

"Would you _shut up_?" Karofsky shoved him back against the wall. He looked as though he truly hated what he had to say next. "…what do I do now that you're here?"

Kurt stared, wondering if he'd gone mad.

"You're the only one who _got it_. Anyone else would've told the whole school, but you didn't. You saw my dad, Kurt. I don't know how he'll react, but I know that there aren't a lot of dads that are like yours. I can't do anything or say _anything_ that'll give me away. You're so far on the other end of the spectrum that it's ridiculous. You practically had a neon sign on you."

Karofsky sighed, his breath turning into a white wisp. "So no matter how frustratingly _annoying_ you are—you were still the only person who would've remotely got what was wrong with me. And I haven't even settled with it myself."

Kurt pursed his lips and shook his head slowly, wondering if he'd actually passed out in fear and that this was all hallucination.

"And now you're gone. You're…_here_." He looked disgusted at the surroundings. He looked disgusted with himself more. "And I don't know what the flying fuck was wrong with me, but I guess I just wanted to see what you were doing in here. And just maybe…figure out _what_ I'm going to do with myself."

Kurt glanced at him. "So you went to Sectionals…just to watch?"

He didn't answer immediately. "…it's annoying to watch you sing. Or hang around with those rich brats like nothing was wrong. Like you forgot everything. Like you just weren't scared anymore. I preferred you scared. Because then it was…easier…" He trailed off.

_Because then…it would be how you feel? _Kurt thought as he watched him. He pressed his fingers to the bridge of his nose, trying to take this all in. "Karofsky—"

"Whatever, Kurt—I'm out of here, I said my piece."

"You're not alone!"

Karofsky stopped. He turned to him slowly, as though not sure if he'd heard that right.

Kurt took a step forward. "It's all Blaine and I were trying to tell you. I know you hate it, and I know you think it's _stupid_ and totally cliché but you're _not_. You're the one who makes yourself alone, Karofsky. If you'd just stop _pushing_ people like you do—"

"Did you ever think that maybe I don't _want_ to be like you?" Karofsky asked suddenly.

Kurt stopped. "Don't you ever think that maybe I push you around because I don't want to be like you?" Karofsky added.

Kurt stared at him silently. "If that were true…you wouldn't have come here to see me. You came here to make some degree of peace. If not with me, then with yourself. Because you know that I'm somewhere you won't get to if you keep going down your direction."

Silence. He and Karofsky stared each other down in the gloom, the wind rustling the dead branches.

* * *

And then from behind the trees, Dwight Houston appeared. At the sight of the jacket that stood across the slim figure pressed to the wall, he started to breathe hard. He quickly felt for Reed's arm behind him. "Go get the others."

Reed, who had just laid his eyes on the scene, looked startled. He nodded to Dwight and immediately fled, swatting away dead branches as he went.

After a moment of fervent praying, Dwight went running towards the alley. _Now or never, chickenheart!_ he told himself.

"_Hey_!"

Karofsky whirled around to find an unnervingly pale, skinny boy with messy black hair rushing at him wielding a flashlight and what appeared to be a water sprayer. He looked badly scared but he aimed the sprayer at him. "Get away from him!"

"Dwight?" Kurt stared.

"Kurt! You all right, man?" he held up the sprayer like a gun to Karofsky. "Did he—did he hurt you?"

"You've got to be kidding me," Karofsky glowered at the boy who looked as though he could be broken like a stick. He took one step towards him and Dwight started yelling in panic, giving him two sprays—which did no good—and throwing rock salt—which also did no good. But he ran around Karofsky until he was right up next to Kurt and he aimed the sprayer again to the heavyset boy.

"Get away from my friend you—demon!" Dwight yelled, the last word having the least conviction.

"Is _everyone_ in here insane?" Karofsky demanded to no one in particular.

Dwight actually answered, "Yes! I mean, no—not everyone. _I'm_ sane. At least."

Kurt was definitely sure he was having a hallucination now. Either of two things could happen: he could wake up, or he and Dwight were about to be beaten to dust.

Dwight shifted his feet, tense, "weapons" still aimed. "The others are on their way. They'll be here in a minute—and they're all going to kick your ass!"

Of that, Kurt had no doubts. But it wasn't what he wanted. He moved Dwight aside a moment and stepped forward. "Leave," he told Karofsky.

The other boy's eyes narrowed. Kurt continued in a low, shaking tone. "You've been expelled once. You break into a private school—I don't think they'll be letting you off with a slap on the wrist. Get out of here before the others come."

Karofsky hesitated onto for a moment, looking at him with suspicion. But it only lasted for a moment. He "lunged" at Dwight—who fled behind Kurt but still had the sprayer aimed—and stepped back from the alley. With a last long look at Kurt, he turned and vanished out of sight.

The two boys stood until the sound of his footfalls faded.

"Oh thank Castiel." Dwight looked like he was about to faint in relief. He slumped against the wall as Kurt did the same next to him. Both slid to the ground, devoid of any energy. "I can't believe we lived."

Kurt looked and smiled faintly at Dwight, though his hands were still shaking uncontrollably. He gave his friend a quick, tight hug and a heavy pat on the back. "Thanks, Dwight. You're my hero."

"Yeah…" Dwight looked awkward, flustered at the uncommon action. "You're welcome, but uh…could you not tell Blaine and Logan that you hugged me? 'Cause, they're really…aggro…? And I don't want them to think that I'm making the moves on you, because there is just _no way… _Not that—not that you're terrible!" he quickly added, flailing. "You're a great guy—person— But I don't like you. I mean, I like you, but not like you _that_ way. Because I like girls. If…there were actually any girls interested, I mean—I mean there haven't been much, like, ever, but—"

"Dwight?"

"Yeah?"

"You can stop talking."

"Oh." Dwight fell quiet. He was reduced to trying to catch his breath. Kurt leaned back to the wall, closing his eyes and willing his hands to stop shaking. They still felt cold, and the knot in his stomach hadn't gone away.

A brace of flashlights came through the dark, signaling the arrival of the Windsor triad of Blaine, Wes and David. "Kurt! Dwight!"

"Here, over here!" Reed cried.

The beams arrived at the alley, all aiming at the two on the cold ground. They squinted up to the light from where they were sitting.

"Oh thank God," Reed breathed as Blaine ran into the alley and to Kurt, kneeling next to him. "Are you all right?" he asked, face contorted in concern.

Kurt looked up at him, heaping gratitude with his eyes and hugged him. He held so tightly that Blaine was startled. "Shh…" he whispered, patting him. "You're okay. We're here."

Kurt swallowed and nodded, and he, Dwight and Blaine now rose. "What happened?" David demanded.

"Karofsky he…he just grabbed me. He only held me down to keep me from screaming. But he just wanted to talk. He didn't actually hurt me, he just—wanted to talk about some things." He glanced to his holy-water-wielding friend with a small smile. "Dwight was great, he ran in and helped me, um…scare him off."

Dwight smiled tremulously, not exactly sure if his performance merited the credit. But he looked proud all the same. Wes patted him in the back.

"Okay…" Blaine nodded and hugged tight Kurt again. "All right." He paused, staring into the blackness of the evening.

"_You stand there on your high and mighty pedestal, all but trying to be seen as some protector but all you ever do is hold his hand!"_

The words echoed in his head even as he struggled to fight them back. Blaine closed his eyes. "…I'm sorry I couldn't be there for you."

Kurt put his hand on his back, and Blaine could feel it there, still cold. But Kurt said, "Looking at it from here…I think I didn't need you there then. I think that he was just someone I had to face by myself. Like you said…I had to confront him." He looked at him with a faint smile. "Courage. Right?"

Blaine would've smiled, but it would have looked too bitter, so he just dropped his eyes. From their sprint, the Twins and Logan finally arrived into the scene.

"Alice!" the twins immediately ran to him, tearing him off Blaine and hugging him like a rag doll in relief. Kurt managed to get an emotion across—annoyance. "Guys—let me go for goodnessake. I'm not dying."

"We totally thought you were! Blaine went running out of Windsor like he was possessed!"

Blaine only smiled faintly as he stood.

"Did you see him?" asked Evan.

"What did he say?" Ethan demanded.

"What did he do?"

"Did he hurt you?"

"Speak to you?"

"_Breathe _on you?"

"We have access to real guns."

"And shovels."

"And large tracts of land!"

"Immediately, even!"

"Could the both of you just let go of me?" Kurt snapped irritably, carefully peeling himself away from the twins' grip. "I can't breathe."

The twins promptly dropped him. Kurt brushed himself off almost nonchalantly as he sighed and looked up tiredly. He met Logan's gaze. And for the first time, it was Logan who looked away.

Kurt did not. He only looked at him and said, "Logan…I know you were just trying to help me but…there are just certain boundaries you shouldn't cross."

"So it _was_ about what he did?" Wes said angrily, looking at Logan. "That guy came here because Logan pushed him around?"

"Logan didn't do anything—it was Karofsky who swung at him," said Kurt quietly. "But Logan did go after him and…I think it prompted him to come here in some way." Kurt looked away. "Maybe because he wanted to see what kind of a place accepted and defended people like us."

Kurt sighed. He looked at Dwight. "…sorry about your birthday, Dwight. I really am—I'll make it up to you."

"Oh shut up, Kurt, you know I don't care about my birthday," Dwight said irritably, though he looked happy at the attention. "You can't help it that you're cursed and as a hunter my job is to suppress any side effects of that." He sighed, smiling at his weapon. "Besides. I got to be the hero."

After that statement, the perfect mix of awkward, reassurance and inanity that only Dwight could achieve, no one actually had anything to say.

Without a word, Blaine put an arm around Kurt's shoulders and led him back to Windsor, the others following.

* * *

Windsor was still rattling to its foundations, crammed with boys enjoying the party. It was as though the others had even left, and not many people had noticed that they were gone at all. Justin Bancroft, the Hanover House prefect, stood waiting at the door when they arrived. As the house was still standing, he'd clearly managed to keep some degree of control.

"You guys all right?" he asked, worried. "Do I still need the police?"

"No," Logan answered, shaking his head. "It's been…dealt with."

"Is Hummel all right?" Justin asked, glancing at Kurt's pale face as Blaine brought him past. The twins followed closely, like a pair of bodyguards. "He looks shaken." He looked at Logan. "You guys get into a fight?"

"Sort of," sighed Wes as he passed them.

"Kind of ongoing…" David nodded as he went by.

"I was the hero," Dwight said with a bit of a grin as he followed.

Reed just sighed.

Justin and Logan looked at each other and the former just shook his head as though he couldn't give a more accurate interpretation of what went on. Derek appeared next to him and he looked at Logan. "You disappeared again. Where did you go off to now?"

"Problems," Logan muttered.

"Don't tell me it's Hummel again, Logan, because you just don't need this shit anymore—"

"Logan, I think Derek's right," Justin said, glancing at him. "I'm all for you trying to turn a new leaf when you came back, but if you get any angrier, you'll end up on the edge again. You'll get expelled for real, Logan, I'm not kidding. Ramsey's watching you like a hawk. You put an inch out of line and you'll end up—"

"—back home," Logan muttered. "And Michelle and the old man wouldn't bail my ass again."

"Fine way of talking about your parents, man. Really nice," Derek said sarcastically.

Logan wasn't listening. He was looking into the house, watching Blaine sitting with Kurt on the couch. Kurt looked better already, and he was almost smiling as Blaine talked to him. Logan considered the situation deeply.

He remembered how Blaine had gone over the edge earlier, how tense and angry he had been, almost losing all the composure that he was so well known for. Stiff as he was, he never actually swung or lunged at Logan the way his two lesser friends, David and Wes, did. He threatened Logan with expulsion and not death.

Nevertheless, the Windsor Prefect now had a very obvious flaw in his solid armor. That flaw was Kurt. But it was a double-edged weapon to wield—because Kurt defended Blaine. He clearly favored him over Logan. In the end, it would have to come down to who was stronger between them. Kurt didn't have to choose—he'll make the decision for him.

Because Logan refused to be placed second best again.

* * *

Walking down one of the halls the next day, Kurt found Finn's concern almost touching. "Finn, I'm all right. I think you made your point after you and Puck nearly hurled Derek out the house."

"_Well he wouldn't let us in_," Finn sounded a little irritated over the phone the next day. This was after the entire McKinley glee club crashed the Windsor party approximately fifty minutes after the initial phone call they had given Dalton. Tina dutifully reported that Finn had nearly been arrested for excessive speeding. But by the time they got there, the issue was long over. "_What the hell, __dude__—he wasn't even in your dorm. The other dudes in your dorm didn't look happy either.__"_

"Oh that's only because they wanted the chance to do that to him themselves, don't worry about them," Kurt waved it away, juggling his bag, books and notes as he walked down the hall. "It was nothing personal. Thanks for coming all the way here, by the way. Santana seemed to have gotten a date out of the trip, though—that woman could make a priest sin." He rolled his eyes. "And tell Brittany that no, Dwight can't turn animals into water goblets."

Blaine materialized beside him wearing a smile, and Kurt's chest felt warm at the sight of him. Blaine, taking some of his books from him, wordlessly asked who was on the phone. Kurt held his hand level a distance over his head, miming someone of great height. Blaine understood it was Finn immediately.

"_I'll keep an eye on Karofsky from here. Puck says he will too, and the rest of the guys."_

"Commendable, brother-from-another-mother, but unnecessary. He didn't actually hurt me. And I don't think he'll be coming back."

"_We know. Just…trying to be sure._" Finn seemed to hesitate. "_Listen, about that guy, um…Blaine, right?"_

Kurt lifted his eyebrows. Were they about to have a "talk"? His brief glance to Blaine told the other boy that he was the topic of discussion. "What about him?"

"_He, uh, just acts kind of…protective __around__ you…" _Finn sounded delightfully awkward and Kurt enjoyed every moment. _"Have you talked to Burt about him yet?"_

"We go to the same school, we're both in Warblers, we live in the same dorm, he's my…friend." Kurt turned red and turned his face away. "What would dad want to know?"

Blaine smiled faintly. That _was_ the official standing. The Windsors tease mercilessly, but that was how the stand remained.

"_I don't know…Mercedes said he might be your boyfriend._"

Kurt colored to his scalp. _I'm going to drive to Lima and demand answers_ _from that girl._ "You're crazy. You, dad and Carole are still coming to Winter Fest, right?"

"_I think the folks are going. Mr. Schue wants us to go caroling for poor kids, so I'm not all sure…_ _Wait—but you're changing the topic—I just want to make sure that Blaine's…you know, on the level."_

Kurt rolled his eyes with an exasperated sigh. "One second." He looked at Blaine and smiled. "Since the topic is you, I need to take this outside so I can make scathing retorts towards my stepbrother at my leisure. I'll be right back."

Blaine just laughed and watched him enter through one of the empty forums. He was relieved when the next morning, Kurt had looked relatively himself again. He still had no idea what he and Karofsky had talked about, but whatever it was, Kurt may have been lifted a weight off his shoulders by going through with the confrontation and coming out unscathed.

He moved to put down his things at nearby couch and it was then that he saw Logan in the hall, watching him. Blaine straightened up and looked at him. "What?"

"We've got to end this," Logan said directly.

"Funny, I thought you were the one who started it."

"He's not property," Logan said plainly. "Especially not yours."

A shadow crossed Blaine's expression. He walked to Logan silently, stopping a few feet away, but he murmured. "You…are the last person I want to hear lecturing me about treating people like property."

"That was last year, Blaine."

"And we're here like it's yesterday, Logan. Aren't you tired of this yet? Because I am. And I don't want Kurt involved." He looked at him directly now. "I didn't fight back before. Because I thought it was for the best. But this time…"

"You can't _do_ this to me, Blaine," Logan snarled under his breath. His fist clenched but he refused to move an inch while there were still students in the hall. "Last year wasn't about him. It was about you and me and you damn well know it."

"Do I…?"

The hallway finally ran out of boys in blazers, and an unsettling silence fell as the echoes of their chatter and footfalls faded. The only people who looked down upon them now were the great portraits of dead men and women who must have once been vital to the school. The curtains from the half open window settled.

Logan never broke eye contact. "...don't, Blaine."

Blaine looked steadily back at him, as he'd finally come to the crux of the matter.

"Do not. Do this. To me." Logan said silently. He could have only been heard in that new silence.

Blaine considered without expression. He slowly shook his head, still looking at him.

"No."

A pause, unnerving. Just like from long ago.

"We had our chance once, Logan. And it didn't work. It didn't work when you chose him over me. I didn't fight you back. I let you run off with him, and him with you. And then you ruined him—just tore him down like he meant nothing." Blaine took one step towards him, those usually warm eyes now hard. "And I saw that I was lucky that _he _caught your bullet for me. But things are different now…" Logan looked back with equal coldness.

Blaine never wavered. "...and I'm not going to let you take Kurt away from me."

Logan's eyes narrowed just so slightly at the challenge.

* * *

And from where he was shaking by the door, Kurt slowly lifted the latch with trembling hands and closed it, sliding down onto the floor.

* * *

_On the next episode: The night of the Winter Fest arrives, with the St. Patrick-Dalton soccer match taking precedence in the day. The team's morale is down the drain, but a little cheering up never hurt anybody. _


	12. Cheer

_Hi, I'm C Coulter, your writer for this fic._

_I'm afraid that any explanation I can give you will just sound like excuses-so I wholly apologize for the fact that I've just updated this fic now. I had been back in the country since yesterday. I would like to thank everyone for their support and well wishes. Singapore was absolutely beautiful and I enjoyed every moment. With your well wishes and support, I'm pleased to report that I won first place in my competition there. I am grateful for everything and every moment. I am also grateful to you all._

_The cheering in this episode is derived from my own experience of six years in cheerleading. I apologize if it is not as well-portrayed-I usually only visualize the routine and cannot entirely put it all down into words._

_This new chapter leaves me with the hope that you will enjoy it, and I look forward to updating as usual. I apologize once again for the lateness, and sincerely hope that you all enjoy this episode._

_(**I do not own Glee**. ps. Let us send our congratulations to Chris Colfer for his Golden Globe nomination.)_

* * *

**Dalton**

**Episode 12: Cheer**

* * *

_I'm Kurt. And this is Dalton Academy._

_Karofsky came after me. I'd like to think came out on the better end of it._

_And then I heard Blaine and Logan talking, and I realized that I didn't really know them as well as I ought to._

_Tonight is the night of the Winter Fest. But it looks like I have something else to look into before that._

* * *

Morning had always been cold, but the way Kurt was buried was under that lavishly thick comforter made Reed wonder if it was _only_ the cold he was hiding from and not the sunlight of the morning altogether. The smaller boy grinned and leapt on the lump under the covers with a great thump. Kurt grunted in shock and pain.

"Up and at em!" Reed said cheerfully, sitting on what presumably were Kurt's ribs. "Come on, you can't stay cooped up there. Today's the last day! Then school's out!"

He only received a grunt without conviction from under the covers. Undeterred, Reed flopped over on top of the covered lump, forcing his weight down. "I was thinking, Kurt. What do you think about me moving in here as your roomie?"

A pause. "…I would say babysitting you, oh hazard-prone one, requires some serious compensation other than your less than welcome early-morning personality…"

"I hereby postulate providing you with complete unbridled access to eighty percent of my wardrobe upon the day of my move."

Another pause. "…I could be persuaded."

"Deal!" Reed grinned and leapt off him. He shook Kurt's shoulders. "Get _up!_ Come on, you've been cooped up in here since yesterday afternoon. You've got to come out before you grow roots. Let's do a last practice—tonight's the big Winter Fest! We're singing lead! This calls for great outfits!"

Kurt just groaned. "…not really in the mood, Reed."

"You haven't been in the mood to hang out after class, you haven't been in the mood to hang out and join the dorm in our first night out together since the arrest lifted, and you're not in the mood to get out today either?" Reed stared at him, perplexed. "What's wrong, are you sick?"

_At the risk of being even more dramatic, yes, I'm sick. Heartsick. I feel like some of Rachel's crazy had rubbed off me_. Kurt sighed. "Not exactly…"

Reed considered. He carefully pulled away the covers from Kurt's head and received no struggle. He blinked down at his friend, who was staring into empty space with contemplative blue eyes. Reed sighed. "Is this about Blaine and Logan?"

Kurt quickly looked up. "What?"

"About the other night, after that visit from that McKinley jock. You're upset they're fighting."

_If that were __**all**__…_ Kurt just sighed. He had to wonder, though, if Reed knew the whole story behind Blaine and Logan. He wasn't sure how long Reed had been in Windsor, but all the most likely candidates to be aware of the scandals (Wes, David, and the Twins), were all nixed from his list of inquiries. They would paint the situation with bias and he wasn't altogether sure if they would really tell him anything.

That fight that Blaine and Logan had in the hall was less of a fight and more of an ultimatum for one another. Logan continued to push the boundary and it seemed as though he had pushed Blaine to the edge of his patience and control in more than one way.

And the realization that Logan and Blaine had been in a relationship was jarring, which at the same time begs the question: _How many Windsor boys __**had**__ Logan gone after?_ The man certainly got around.

"You okay?" Reed asked after Kurt's moment of silence.

"About Logan…"

Reed raised his eyebrows. "What about him?"

"…what was he like before he was like this now?"

Reed wasn't quite sure how to answer the question. But he said down and said, "Well…the thing is… Logan's always been that way. Actually…he's actually dialed down a few notches since last year."

"_This_ is Logan dialed down?"

Reed fidgeted. "I don't want to talk badly about anyone… but Logan was unpopular for many reasons—with many of them founded."

"What about Blaine?"

Reed stared now. "Blaine…? You mean, what he was like last year?" He tilted his head. "Why are you curious?"

"I just…wanted to know more about him… Without having to ask him. I figured you might know something."

"As far as "somethings" go, Wes and David know more than I do. I met Blaine couple of months after he transferred. That was when he had moved to Windsor. We hadn't talked so much at first. He kept to himself, and Wes and David kept bugging him until they became friends."

Another pause. Kurt hesitated for a long moment.

"…did Blaine and Logan always fight like this?"

Reed froze. His hands gripped the sheets. "…no. They…we were all Warblers and…they seemed to get along okay in the Hall. Kind of friendly… Outside, it was just the usual staying with their respective houses. I don't know very much."

"Mm…" Kurt nodded. He finally got up and sighed. "Last day. I'll go get showered—I feel like emptying a bottle of Clinique and scrubbing off all of Murdoch's contempt from my skin. " He gave Reed a small smile and walked to his bathroom.

Reed smiled back and watched him go, but as soon as the door shut, a tense expression came over his face. He didn't want to lie to him, but the Windsors always protected their own—and they weren't ever to talk about this anymore, more for Blaine's sake than anything. But he had no doubt:

_He knows. There's just no other reason for all the questions. Kurt knows._

* * *

"Soccer game?"

"It's called football for the rest of the world," Wes bristled as he stabbed at his lasagna. It was lunch period and the cafeteria was starting to fill. The windows were full of lances of sunlight pouring into the room as a multitude of boys discussed trips during vacation and the last of the activities for the day. "But yes, there's one today. The last one for the year. We're getting out early for it. Maybe they're sending out everyone early to spare us all the shame of having to watch our team lose."

Kurt was confused. "But I thought your team was great."

"It is," said David with a sigh. "But we're fighting St. Patrick's Lions. And every year, even if the Dalton Kings guns down the rest of the tournament, St. Patrick ruins the parade."

"They're that good?"

"That and it's depressing to fight them," said Wes with a dramatic fling of the arm. "Their cheer block is _killing_ us!"

"It didn't seem that way during the fencing meet," Kurt frowned as he put down his salad fork. Without looking, he swatted away Evan's fork—the twin was once again trying to shovel cheese into his salad in an attempt to have Kurt "gain some more weight" after all the school toll. Kurt maintained that he can handle himself. As soon as Kurt was distracted with Evan, Ethan dumped cheese into the salad from the other side.

David, used to the odd things happening on the lunch table, ignored the look of murder that Kurt was bestowing on an innocent-looking Ethan, and said, "Well they don't allow cheerleaders into their fencing meets."

Kurt gave him a narrow-eyed "I-don't-follow" expression. Wes, mouth full of pasta, said, "St. Patrick's got girls on their side since they're co-ed." He rolled his eyes and swallowed. "Anyway, they've got cheerleaders on their end and they drive the whole crowd nuts. Their whole _school _comes out to watch their girls shake it—and they like driving our school crazy because, well…we don't get any of that! There isn't much we can actually do, being an all boy's school."

"Warblers once sang during the half time," Reed said, blinking, mouth full of fettuccine.

Even Kurt joined the others in rolling their eyes at that one. The Warblers were rockstars all right, and there was no doubt that the Dalton boys thought very highly of them. But in the middle of an impassioned football match, with a crowd of hotties shaking booties at the other end, a campus full of hormone-driven male adolescents would be more compelled to appreciate other worldly sights.

"It's not _just_ the Banshees, then," Dwight grumbled as he pushed around his baked beans on his plate. "The girls are pretty roasting hot, yeah, but the thing is, the team just needs all the morale it can get! Not only did Blaine quit already, but Charlie—he's the real prefect, you haven't met him yet—he's the team captain and he's out! He's in the hospital recuperating."

"What happened to him?"

"Unfortunate paintball incident," supplied Evan with a sweet smile.

"We had no idea that the cannon was going to be that strong," Ethan added.

"Bad luck, really—what with the stairs—"

"—and that squeaky mallet—"

"—nasty mess on the landing, you know…"

Kurt impatiently waved it away and said, "So what you're telling me is that all of Dalton is positive that they're going to lose the football match—"

"—for the fourth year—"

"—because you don't have cheerleaders?"

"And star players," Wes pointed out. "As of right now, _I'm _the best the team's got."

David stared at him. "_What_? I just defended us to the death back then!"

"But they still scored that one in that had them win 1-0!"

"Well if you'd listened to coach instead of looking at girls—"

Kurt turned away from all this good-natured squabbling to see Blaine approaching them with his lunch tray. As was usual, Evan rose from his place to change seats—he would sit next to Ethan—so Blaine could sit next to Kurt. But the moment he made to rise, he felt Kurt grab his wrist to hold him down in place. Evan stared at him, and Ethan looked, seeing what happened.

Kurt said nothing, holding Evan down to exactly where he was sitting, eating with his other hand as though nothing was happening. Blaine arrived with a smile, not seeming to notice the fact that his usual seat next to Kurt was occupied by one puzzled twin.

"You're not arguing about the match again, are you?" Blaine frowned at the two. "So what if St. Patrick has those Banshees? Just don't pay attention to them."

"It's easy for you to say that as you're not inclined," Wes grimaced at him. "Now if it had been _Kurt_ out there—"

An epidemic of choking went over the table as the boys all but spat out their food all over the table. As they proceeded to throw wadded up paper napkins at Wes, the person in question—Kurt himself—did not have that reaction. In fact he looked rather contemplative.

_Hmm…it's not as though I __**can't**__… Not alone, anyway…_

"You all right, Kurt?" Blaine asked.

This roused him. Kurt turned crimson and said, "Yeah. Fine." He flashed him a bright smile and resumed stabbing his lettuce leaves.

The twins glanced at each other, a little concerned. Ethan didn't need Evan to say anything—he knew that Kurt's hand was still on his twin's wrist. Reed, who watched, shifted a little uncomfortably. Dwight, who could sense dread atmosphere acutely, at least, now bristled. "Now what? We're going to lose the game for the fourth year in a row? I told you guys, just let me curse them or something. I got this book that—"

"You can curse them all you want at the stands—it's not going to make them stop doing whatever it is they're doing," David rolled his eyes. "Blaine's right. Let's just focus on the game. If we win, we win, if we lose—"

"It would be normal?" the twins raised their eyebrows.

"Upside, we get to watch the Banshees," Wes grinned.

"Wes' girlfriend is in St. Patrick," Reed whispered to Kurt. "She's a Banshee. Remember Tabitha?"

"It would take _amnesia_ to make me forget about Tabitha," Kurt snorted. "And wasn't she his ex?"

"He's angling to take her out again," Evan sighed.

"It's a cycle," Ethan agreed.

"I have a thing for cheerleaders," Wes admitted.

While this was happening, it is well worth noting that each one of the boys had a hand under the table holding a cell phone. As the presumably ordinary inanity continued, a flurry of frantic text-chat was going on between the conspirators of Windsor.

_**MHare**: What the hell, Evan, stop being a douche, move seats already._

_**Tweedles**__: Alice made him stay sitting down._

_**MHatter**: Why?_

_**Tweedles**__: Don't know. Doesn't want to sit with the Rabbit?_

___**MHare**:_ Wait, WHAT? Is there a problem here?

_**Dormouse**__: Guys, stop being so obvious or the two will notice._

_**WKnight**: They fight or something?_

_**Dormouse**__: I think Kurt knows about Logan and Blaine from last year's. _

_**Tweedles**__: Oh…_

_**MHare**: Crap._

_**MHatter**: Crap._

_**WKnight**: Awkward…_

_**Tweedles**__: Emergency maneuvers?_

_**MHare**: Stat._

There was a terse pause.

_**WRabbit**: I think you guys forgot to take me off the list._

Everyone on the table looked up as though deer caught in headlights. Blaine was frowning at them. "Whoah!" Evan leapt off his seat before Kurt could stop him—he landed right next to his twin, and both proceeded to scoot as far away as possible from Blaine.

In the finest show of feigned composure yet, Blaine slid to the seat next to Kurt and the two proceeded to eat their lunches with barely obvious tension. "Are you going to watch the game?" Blaine asked.

Kurt nodded, considering. "I was thinking of it… You guys sound like you need all the help you can get."

"The team isn't really that bad at it. They wouldn't have gotten this far in spite of Wes and David trying to imitate Shaolin Soccer half the time—"

"Hey!" the two chorused.

"—but their hormones just rage when the Banshees start getting it on."

"Hmm…" Kurt contemplated for a moment, and seemed to make a decision. He stood up. "You guys go on. Reed, come with me. We'll both see you guys later at the game."

"What—me?" Reed looked startled, but got up. "We're not going to afternoon class? Why?"

"We have to practice for tonight," Kurt just gave him a look that told him to go along with it, and towed him away immediately out into the halls.

The rest of the boys stared after them, puzzled, and then Blaine spoke up. "What do you mean he knows about me and Logan?"

"I don't know, it was Reed who said it," said Wes, staring at him.

David frowned. "Reed's not the gossiping type, so I'll assume you and Logan may have dropped a rather large hint on Kurt at some point."

"Like I would tell him about my phase of insanity." Blaine grumbled. He didn't want his food anymore and pushed it around his plate. "No matter what I do to put it away, it's catching up to me."

"Maybe Logan's kind of like an STD that really doesn't go away even after you're supposedly "cured"…" Dwight said, earning himself the most awkward statement of the table yet.

After bestowing a withering glance at the spiritualist, Wes looked at Blaine. "Did you two do or say anything?"

Blaine considered—he had only seen Logan yesterday in the hall where they had that stand-off. He glanced to the others. "Logan and I had another confrontation in the hall… Kurt had left to talk on the phone, but maybe he overheard us."

"What were you talking about?"

"…that thing that happened between us, back when we were together, when he dropped me and how he ruined—"

He had not the chance continue as all the boys groaned and threw their napkins and forks onto the table. The twins looked exasperated. "What is the _matter_ with you, Blaine…?" Evan sighed. "Have we taught you _nothing_? If you _must_ discuss highly suspect topics of controversy, it _has_ to be done at least a whole zip code away from your issue."

"That's what we did when we talked about pouring itching powder into Logan's jockstrap."

"Unsuccessful, but it was a good try in the end."

"Kurt definitely must've overheard," said David, frowning. "Did you say anything else?"

Blaine hesitated. Wes and David waited expectantly. Finally, the prefect sighed. "…I told Logan that I won't let him take Kurt from me."

Dwight dropped his fork, staring.

"Oooh, inadvertent confession, I see," Evan was grinning broadly now.

"Would've been better in a setting that didn't involve a rival…" Ethan considered.

"Wait—so he's now _avoiding_ me because I pretty much just said that I liked him?" Blaine _really_ didn't want to eat his lunch now and he threw his fork down. He put his head into his hand, trying to wonder what the first thing to do even was. Before he knew it, the twins had plopped onto either side of him and draped their arms heavily over his shoulders.

"There, there, oh panicked Rabbit."

"You're not quite _that_ late."

"Cheer up! Maybe he just doesn't know how to act around you."

"While you say that, clearly it only means he doesn't feel the same way," Blaine grumbled without looking up.

"That's just not true," said Evan sensibly, making them all look at him. "Kurt obviously likes you. He keeps rejecting Logan. You should've seen the smackdown during Sectionals."

"Still not making me feel better." Blaine stopped. "What smackdown during Sectionals?"

The twins exchanged conspiratorial grins. "The Knave may have said some expressive statements questioning new one's morals. Alice slapped him. Beautifully." Grins were exchanged around the table. "Consequently, we're to assume Alice likes him _far_ less than he likes you. The first rejection is always so priceless."

Blaine frowned and sat up. "I think I've got to go talk to Kurt while I still have the chance."

The twins hauled him back down. "Sit. You have time. Logan won't make a move until he manages to get Alice alone. While Alice is with the Dormouse, he'll keep away. For now, we need a battle plan."

"Which is?"

"Tonight is Winter Fest. You're presenting for Windsor along with others…and Logan presents for Stuart like he always does. It's time to steamroller us some Stuarts and have you completely win over Alice."

"This is in front of his _parents_," Blaine blanched, remembering Kurt saying that Burt and Carole were coming to watch. "And _my_ parent."

"Fortune favors the bold," David smirked.

* * *

"Why are you avoiding Blaine?" asked Reed as he followed Kurt into the courtyard. Compared to the McKinley yard, this courtyard was roughly the size of a ballroom with tiling that seemed as though they were imported from Europe. Right now, everything was cold outside, with Reed rubbing his hands on his arms to keep warm.

"I'm not avoiding Blaine," Kurt answered tersely as he pulled out his phone and began dialing.

"But you didn't sit next to him," said Reed, blinking. "You made one of the twins stay."

"I'm not avoiding Blaine, Reed," Kurt sighed, putting the phone to his ear. "I couldn't if I tried and I don't want to. I just have this idea that I should do before Windsor madness wears off and I realize what the hell I'm doing—hello, Quinn?"

"_Kurt_? _What's going on?" _she asked, sounding quite surprised.

Reed flailed, "But you've been acting funny since—"

"Reed!" Kurt snapped. "Stop flopping like a fish on the bottom of a boat. I'm not avoiding Blaine. I can't avoid someone I'm in love with. Now be quiet!"

Quite effective. Reed stood staring at him, mouth hanging open in what might have been absolute shock and delight. His friend's knack for bluntness continued to stun him.

Quinn was less receptive. "_I'm sorry, what is going on? Am I in some kind of Dalton talk show?" _There was disturbance in the other end and Santana came on. "_In love with whom—and details are necessary. Have you had him?_"

"Santana!" Kurt scolded. He let the fact that she put him on speakerphone pass for the sake of necessity. "Where are you guys right now?"

"_Club room…Christmas tree…Lauren eating popcorn__ that's supposed to go on the tree_."

"I need a favor that you all can use as a Christmas gift for me."

"_What does __**you all**__ mean?" _Santana sounded suspicious.

"_It means Christmas…_" Brittany piped up from somewhere. "_Artie said Yule means Christmas._"

"_No, Brittany—she meant—" _Artie began.

Kurt shook his head and sighed. "Just the Cheerios. Do you girls know the Banshees?"

"_From St. Patrick_?" he could almost see Quinn raising an eyebrow.

"_Head cheerleader is Margot. Her boyfriend's in the Marines and she drills the Banshees the same way. She's missing a toe on her left foot and has a fake one,_" Santana added, proving that Sue Sylvester's network of intelligence was bordering on obscene. "_Returning to the previous question, __**in love with whom**__?"_

"_Kurt, I not sure I like what I'm hearing very much—" _Finn started to say awkwardly.

"I need the Cheerios to come here for some serious retribution," Kurt declared. "Turns out that the Banshees are giving the Dalton boys a hard time by seducing them from across the field. We've got a game tonight—and I was hoping I could get a little backup."

Quinn responded, "_A little backup? So you plan on getting in the uniform again_?"

Reed gave him a confused look. Kurt smirked at the phone. "Just get over here and get ready. Bring any Cheerios you can spare. Me and one more person will join you." He grinned at Reed.

The smaller boy blinked. Kurt gave him a raised eyebrow in answer. Reed wasn't sure what was going on, but he had the feeling that he was about to get dragged into it. He glanced around uncomfortably, and thought he saw someone vanish around the corner of the building.

Someone with a red shield on his lapel.

* * *

"Logan."

The prefect sitting on the tree branch having his own quiet lunch looked down to see Derek frowning from below, arms akimbo. "Can I help you?"

"You should give up on Hummel," said Derek bluntly.

The sigh that came from Logan was sincerely exasperated. "Derek, I don't care how many times you have to say it, but nothing will make it go away. You think I _like_ chasing after someone that difficult? And have you seen the way he dresses when not in uniform? I swear, I wouldn't be able to take him to a country club without—"

"_Country club__?_ Logan, you're making plans on introducing Kurt to your _parents_?" Derek stared, stunned. "What, are you planning on getting _engaged_? No offense, but this is starting to get insane, even for you."

"Michelle's coming to watch me perform tonight. If she and the old man are coming, I don't see why I shouldn't tell them about Kurt."

"You are _crazy_. I'll say it as many times as I have to. I thought that you were going to be all right as long as you were "interested" but this is overboard. You're making plans out of air. And you know that Mr. Wright won't be thrilled to hear about this."

Logan dropped down from the branch with a dull thump. "He's never thrilled to hear anything about me that involves another male, Derek. He's _relieved_ that I actually have you; he's hoping that you'll unload one of your girlfriends onto me."

"I wouldn't give you any one of them, you're too volatile." Derek crossed his arms over his chest again. "You're being rejected soundly by Hummel, Logan. Plans on whisking him away to the East Coast and introducing him to the country club is so out of the question—"

"This isn't like last year, Derek!" Logan threw up his arms. "It wasn't even like this with Blaine! And I don't know why, and I don't care! It's driving me crazy, I don't _chase_ people, they come to _me_. You think this is easy? You try it!"

"Logan, Kurt's made his choice. He's in love with Blaine."

Logan stopped. He slowly turned to his friend, who was looking firm and almost sympathetic. "…what did you say?"

Derek sighed. "I saw Van Kamp and Hummel on the courtyard. They were arguing or…_something_. But I heard him tell Reed how he felt about Blaine. He said he was in love with him. If he's strong enough to admit it to someone else, I think it means game over."

The next thing Derek knew, Logan had hurled him onto the nearest brick wall, arms planted on either side and green eyes blazing. Logan looked—for lack of a better word—positively murderous. "_What_?"

"Logan!" Derek shouted furiously, pushing him off. "Get a grip!"

"No!"

Derek grabbed him by the jacket and flung him into the wall in turn with a crash. The green rage in his eyes dimmed. Logan seemed to come to his senses, breathing hard and moving a hand through his hair. There was a tense pause as he regained composure. "Thanks…"

"Have you been taking your medication?"

No answer. Derek angrily pushed him. "Have you been taking your medication, I asked!"

"…not…regularly." When he saw the look on his friend's face, Logan added, "I don't want to! I don't _like _being numb! I want to _feel_ something, anything! It was awful being so incredibly numb—especially during that storm! I was with Kurt and I didn't feel _anything_! It's _stupid_ and it makes no sense but he makes me feel something!"

Derek looked furious. "You're letting him ruin all the progress you've made! He's not worth it, Logan! Think about what you'll lose if you don't start trying to control yourself. You remember why you're in Dalton, don't you? Why you're in Westerville instead of the Upper East Side?"

"…yes."

"You're just not capable of having a docile relationship with Blaine back then—and right now Kurt won't be any different either," Derek snapped. "He's not _worth_ all this!"

Logan slumped down onto the ground the way he did during Sectionals, after Kurt had slapped him and fled his presence, leaving him cold with nothing to grasp on. It was like a candle going out, leaving him in the dark, angry and confused all over again. He put his hands to his temples. He wanted that light back.

"…yes he is."

* * *

The students of Dalton began to pour into the stands of the massive field. The Dalton boys had shed their uniforms in favor of coats, watching as the St. Patrick Lions supporters started to rapidly fill the other side, their white, green and gold bannerettes and flags waving. Some of them bore lime green vuvuzelas and were starting to trumpet noisily.

The Dalton Kings supporters waved their own flags—the gold-slashed blue flaglets from Windsor, the white-crossed red flags for Stuart, and the gold-trimmed white from Hanover—creating the colors of Dalton on their stands. They too were armed with vuvuzelas, determined to drown out the chants of the St. Patrick Banshees who were starting to gather before the St. Patrick stands.

"_S.P.! let's hear it!"_ the cheerleaders were clapping in rhythm.

"_Lions!" _the crowd roared back.

The twins dragged Blaine over to the seats in spite of his vociferous protests to watching the game. Quite frankly, he preferred to be out of Murdoch's line of fire—he had loathed the coach since he began working with them, and his quitting the team due to his decision to avoid his torment _and_ put in more attention to the Warblers didn't put him in the best light either. However, the twins wouldn't have it and wanted him to sit and watch Wes and David, mainly to see if they were to attempt any more physics-defying stunts.

"What did you talk about with Kurt earlier?" asked Blaine as they sat down.

"He's on his way with Reed. They just wanted some…equipment." The twins looked wildly animated, odd considering that they were not at all fond of the sports teams (in spite of their obvious talent for physical activity). "You have to be here, Blaine, I'm telling you. It's going to be good."

"You two know something we don't?" Dwight, who had also been coerced to sit in (with threats of fire towards his extensive collection of Demonology books), now frowned at the twins. "Did you rig the game or something?"

"Or something," Evan said, barely able to keep sitting.

"Won't know what hit them," Ethan grinned.

Justin came down the aisle and sat near them. He nodded to the Windsor prefect with a friendly grin. "Good party the other day, Dwight. All right there, Blaine?"

"All right, Justin," Blaine nodded. "What brings you here?"

"Checking up on you. Logan worries me. He's fuming again." Justin gave him a brief smile. "Might have thought he'll be after your blood. Never quite had as much trouble with a Stuart prefect before. Makes me demmed uncomfortable, honestly."

"It's your last year," Blaine warned. "You should try to take it easy on getting involved."

"Between Windsor and Stuart and the way they are?" Justin snorted, his cockney accent more pronounced when annoyed. "I could hardly stay out of it. It'd be like running away from a fire instead of putting it out. Have you any idea how _glad_ I am that Hanover's peaceful? Or at least—has been since Wesley left. I promise you, the man was _meant_ to be one of you."

The twins looked rather proud of that. "'Stuart boys believe in pure expertise! Hanover boys are keepers of the peace! Windsor boys break the boundaries'!" they said, happily reciting the common demarcation between the three Houses, quoting the speech of Herman Dalton, the school founder.

The stands bursts into cheers and trumpeting as both teams came out onto the field. The Lions were in their green with white trim while the Kings had donned their predominantly white and blue uniforms. David was the only one different; his bright red goalkeeper's jersey stood out among the others and after their caucus with Murdoch, the team went into the field.

The kickoff was had and the game began amidst wild cheering from both ends. From the other side, the Banshees started to go to formation and began to dance, waving pompoms. Their uniforms hugged their bodies in the best ways possible, and they wore green tanks with short tube skirts that may have well been scarves for their size. With every high kick, the Dalton boys marveled at their shiny gold chrome spankies that were barely hidden by the skirts.

"_Saint Patrick, let me hear it!"_ they would chant.

"_Lions!_" the crowd would roar back.

"_Saint Patrick, come on, roar!"_

"_Lions!"_

With every crowd scream, the Banshees would fly into the air, completing perfect double axels in their basket tosses. A whole line of Banshees made simultaneous herkies to delight of the crowds from both schools. The Dalton Kings, watching the eyes of their own cheer block fastened onto the Banshees, looked on in disgust. The few boys with conviction kept trying to drown them out and distract others with the maddening sound of vuvuzelas.

"Where are they…?" Evan muttered, scanning the crowd.

"The Banshees are owning it. The Lions just got a stolen ball _again_."

"Do you think Reed chickened out? It _was_ in under five hours."

"Reed would never chicken out. He may be a little skittish, but he'd never chicken out."

"Well all right. He's also a Warbler, so routines shouldn't be that hard for him…"

"Except this one involves tricks…"

"What are you talking about?" asked Dwight, confused.

"Where are Kurt and Reed?" Blaine asked, a little concerned. "They said they'd be here in time for the game." He looked around. It was worth noting that Logan was not in the stands among the Stuart block.

The twins waved away his concern. "Relax, Rabbit—just focus on your performance for later tonight."

David, out on the field, was starting to look truly annoyed. He was a particularly excellent goalkeeper and was loathed by virtually the entire league for his incorrigible defense of the Dalton goal. But even he was starting to get tired swatting away attacks when their own players would get distracted by a flash of spankies and a saucy wink from some daring Banshee at the other end.

The score remained at a stagnant 0-0, and it was starting to get obvious that the Kings' morale was not as great. David was furiously holding the defense nearly by himself as attack after attack by the Kings failed on the Lions' end.

"If by some act of God we win this stupid farce, screw the Best Goalkeeper Award; I'm petitioning the league for David to get the damn MVP," Wes panted to one of their best strikers as they ran down the field.

"We'll get the damn _trophy_ engraved with his name if we have to," the other boy answered breathlessly. He glanced to his left and punched Wes in the arm. "Wes! Come on—get your head in the game!"

Wes, distracted by Tabitha's flirty smile and wave from across the field, all but missed the pass. David dropped his face into his palm as Wes struggled to recover and kicked the ball across to another striker. From the Banshees, a severe brunette with "captain" sparkling in glitter at the back of her uniform snapped her fingers at Tabitha's face. "Come on, Adams! And when you do that basket toss, suck it _in_, you understand?"

Tabitha fidgeted. "Yes, ma'am."

Dwight winced as, with a sickening crunch, a striker from the Kings collided with another from the Lions'. There were problems on the field as people tried to sort it out. "What is _happening_…"

"Any minute now…come on half time…" the twins muttered.

As the players retreated momentarily to their respective locker rooms at the end of the first half of the game (the Lions perhaps were to rest and plan the slaughter of the Kings, who were probably on the receiving end of Murdoch's infamous wrath), the Banshees started to run into the field to formation. The Dalton boys, no longer entirely too depressed by the two goose eggs sitting on the scoreboard, perked up to watch the "league's hottest cheerleaders" prepare to perform.

The Banshees were talented—they had won second and first runner up titles for the past four years—and they started off a halftime performance. The Pussycat Dolls blasted from the stadium sound system and St. Patrick's side started to cheer madly.

Comprised of basket tosses and gymnastic stunts, the Banshees danced and ground to When I Grow Up with perfect allure, whipping their heavily hairsprayed curls through the air and waving not only to the St. Patrick crowd but also to the Dalton one. The latter block happily responded.

* * *

"How did you get Coach Sylvester to say yes?" Quinn asked in the dim women's locker room.

"I sold my soul," Kurt's voice answered. "I'm yours for Regionals and Nationals. I'm to undergo some hellish nightmare training every Friday night, without complaint or excuse—which includes mutilation and critical illness—to keep up with your routines. Sylvester also has permission to use the Dalton field for whatever top secret performance operations she should need it for…and apparently there's a "burying-dead-bodies-in-it" clause somewhere in the contract she drew. …that and Reed agreed to buy the whole squad gift certificates to free dinners in Breadsticks for the next month."

"I love you, by the way," Santana said from somewhere.

"Right…" Reed sounded awkward and shifted. "If it'll get us to win this one game for Dalton, I would've bought for two months. Kurt, are you sure you want me to do this?"

"You look fine. You'll do fine. You managed to keep up with the whole thing. You don't need to do anything that complicated."

"And besides," Santana said wickedly, "We'll only toss you two stories high. No big."

"_Kurt_!"

"Santana, stop scaring him; he's not used to that succubus that inhabits your skin. You'll be fine, Reed."

"The Banshees are out…" said Brittany from near the door. "They're almost done…"

There was a crowd of bodies at the door now. Santana snorted. "Hottest cheerleaders in the league my ass. Those Banshees are going down—we won't even need Coach Sue's new routine for this one. Our 'limber up' routine is good enough."

"Dalton won't know the difference anyway," Kurt answered. He watched as Margot, the head cheerleader walked up front like a supermodel and started blowing kisses to the crowd, even to the Dalton one. His eyes narrowed. "It's on, bitches."

* * *

Dalton almost never had halftime performances (except for the one time the Warblers performed), and so the Banshees fully expected to make an encore. As they finished their performance of When I Grow Up, they started to attack the crowd to get them warmed up for the second one. They were ready for their next performance—Stripper, by the Soho Dolls, designed to effectively kill the entire stadium—but the opening bars only barely managed to get out before the stadium lights died.

The twins looked up and grinned. "Yes!"

There was confusion in the stadium as the crowds murmured. On the grounds, however, the Banshees were startled to find other bodies invading the field, dutifully pushing them out of the centre ground with definite authority.

"Move. Move." The other girls, vague in the darkness, pushed them off like drill sergeants.

"What the hell?" Margot demanded, looking furious as she nearly stumbled, shoved into the rest of the Banshee crowd at the St. Patrick sidelines.

Quinn, Brittany and Santana only smiled and turned, walking to their position facing the Dalton crowd.

The lights flickered—and began to change color wildly. When the music started to blast from the speakers, the lights moved in time to the rhythm. A crowd standing in perfect, flawless formation was standing in the middle, heads down, shadows bouncing in the flashing lights.

Though at first confused, the boys realized what they were looking at—girls in cheerleading uniforms. They were aided by a small smattering of boys—lifters—in the same. The red and white Cheerios uniforms flashed with each light beat. The second team of girls was now facing the Dalton crowd, tight ponytails high on their heads, waiting for the cue.

_I make them good girls go bad_

_I make them good girls go—_

_Good girls go bad_

The Dalton stands erupted into wild cheering as confetti exploded from cannons and the Cheerios began to move, right as the music kicked up. Unlike the Banshees, only the backup Cheerios had pompoms. The main phalanx had none, putting all the focus to their hypnotic dance. The Kings, having heard the music and the mad cheering from the Dalton stands, started to pour into the sidelines, watching in shock.

Quinn, Santana and Brittany up front; the girls moved with purpose and shot the boys smoldering looks as they performed their flawless dance moves—Brittany's twirling and hip moves receiving special attentions. Santana threw them a smirk before doing perfect back handsprings and into the other cheerleaders, where she was caught, lifted and given a basket toss that must have been three stories high. The stands went wild.

But it had just begun. It was when a small strawberry-haired boy in Cheerios red-and-white strode forward with a grin that was almost a smirk, wearing a mic, came striding forward and began to join them in the dance, taking the lead and raising his voice:

_I know your type_

_You're daddy's little girl_

_Just take a bite_

_Let me shake up your world_

_'Cause just one night couldn't be so wrong_

_I'm gonna make you lose control—_

"_Is that Reed?_" Dwight burst out in utter shock from the stands as Blaine, mouth open in shock, leaned far over the rail.

"It's Reed—I don't believe it!" Wes yelled, laughing with the rest of the amazed team.

The twins were yelling at the top of their lungs, cheering with all their might as the Windsor boys went crazy, the Warblers from all houses throwing their flags into the air. Reed was clearly not as expert as the hardcore cheerleaders, but he kept up in fine style for the hyped-up chorus dance.

_I make them good girls go bad_

_I make them good girls go bad_

_You were hanging in the corner with your five best friends_

_You heard that I was trouble but you couldn't resist_

_I make them good girls go bad_

_I make them good girls go_

_Good girls go bad—_

The Cheerios bumped and thrust to the beat, causing both the St. Patrick and Dalton's cheer blocks to go mad as they peeled off in military precision. Reed joined the girls in the dance moves before stepping back and pointing to the group behind him, ducking down to make room afterwards.

An entire V-shaped group lifted girls in liberties before they dismounted cradled off—and as they fell away, the middle dancers knelt down to reveal Kurt Hummel in his old Cheerios uniform standing with a smirk, singing:

_I know your type_

_Boy, you're dangerous_

_Yeah, you're that guy_

_I'd be stupid to trust_

_But just one night couldn't be so wrong_

_You make me wanna lose control—_

He finished his lines with a smirk and a wink that nearly had Blaine going into heart failure. The twins smirked mercilessly at him, pretending to shake him back to reality.

"Yeah!" David yelled, clapping his gloved hands.

_I make them good girls go bad_

_I make them good girls go bad_

_You were hanging in the corner with your five best friends_

_You heard that I was trouble but you couldn't resist_

_I make them good girls go bad_

_I make them good girls go_

_Good girls go bad—_

Kurt, having been trained far more rigorously than Reed, was moving almost perfectly with the Cheerios now as they performed a succession of dance moves combined with gymnastics. From behind him, Reed mounted and was thrown into the air in a backflip, causing the Dalton boys to cheer like mad. Reed would go on record later to say that he had never met girls who were so ferociously strong in his life.

Kurt and Reed performed simultaneous front handsprings—Kurt adding a roundoff to his—before they stood up front and the group mimed a military march in their dance, the Cheerios chorusing with them.

_Oh, she's got away with the boys in the place_

_Treat 'em like they don't stand a chance—_

_And he's got away with the girls in the back_

_Acting like they're too hot to dance—_

_Yeah, she's got away with the boys in the place_

_Treat 'em like they don't stand a chance—_

_And he's got away with the girls in the back_

_Acting like they're too hot to dance—_

With every line, Dalton responded with a deafening cheer. The song continued with this same effect and even the players on the sidelines were starting to dance. The St. Patrick crowd had started to join in and their stunned Banshees could hardly react.

A final pyramid and pose from the entire squad, along with no less than four erupting confetti cannons, reduced the stadium to pandemonium, and vuvuzelas trumpeted in all directions as the boys pounded at the rails with their flags. The Cheerios stood triumphant, with Kurt and Reed panting in the front with Quinn, Brittany and Santana.

"I can't believe we just did that," Reed muttered, holding the pose and looking at the animated Dalton crowd. "Look at these guys!"

"If it was this easy to get these guys riled up, I'd've done this sooner," Kurt smirked.

There was a furious commotion from the back. "Excuse me—let me through here—HEY!" The last word came from Margot, who, up close, towered over Kurt as she stood a full six feet tall with solid limbs and rock hard abs that rivaled Brittany's.

"What the hell is going on here?" she demanded. "You guys deliberately interrupted our performance—you're not even from Dalton! Dalton doesn't have any girls!"

"All right, Miss Sandpaper-Skinned Amazon, if that's how you want it…"

Sue Sylvester approached with a cool expression, giving the Banshees a once over as the Cheerios stood at sane distance—Kurt gathered Reed up under his wing and moved him away from crossfire. "Interesting assortment of frightened baby mice you've gathered here—I'm sure they'll be killed swiftly yet painfully once we decide to weed out the competition for Regionals this year. Or maybe we won't have to once they break their necks from those hideously executed deadmans you've been doing all afternoon. My shares in funeral parlors will soar."

"That doesn't change anything!" Margot blurted out. "You're not—"

"It just so happens that I have leverage in these matters after six straight years of winning nationals with our ridiculously overproduced routines—I have it on good authority, based on extreme blackmailing, creative torture methods _and_ my contract, that the Cheerios will cheer for whoever we want to cheer at any given time, which includes cheering over the forthcoming demise of your squad if we feel like it. If you like, we may even use pompoms made of your greasy, unwashed hair as a sign of mourning."

She leaned over to Margot. "Now turn your little implanted butt cheeks around, and go back to your basecamp before we throw our emergency rations of high-protein powder at you and eat you alive."

Margot colored scarlet and purple. She whirled around, snapping her fingers—and the Banshees followed her, looking back frightened at Sue.

The fearsome coach now turned to Kurt. "Porcelain, I expect you to be in the field by Friday."

Kurt just smiled. The Cheerios looked amused. At this point, the Kings had torn into the field started throwing themselves onto them. "That was _great_!" Wes said, wildly elated.

"I had no idea you cheered, Kurt!" David exclaimed.

"That was hot—definitely _hot_," Wes agreed, grinning broadly. He turned to the other boys, "Come on, let's go get these Lions!"

In a united battle cry, the Kings ran into the field. The Windsor boys started leaping over the barricades and to Kurt and Reed on the grounds, where they were subsequently smothered by hugs of gratitude.

* * *

Dalton won the game with their single goal coming from Wes' furious charge through the field with only seconds left to the game. The whole time, the Cheerios jumped up and down cheering on the sidelines, urging the Dalton boys to cheer along and rousing the Kings' spirits. David held on to the end—not a single goal went past him, even if he did end up concussing himself on a post.

Confetti fell from the sky as the Dalton students leapt at their team's first victory over St. Patrick's in four years, firmly rooting in Kurt's mind the power of hormones over a single-gender community.

It was after the game, when the team had been back in the locker room and the Windsor boys were escorting the Cheerios to their bus, that Mr. Harvey came up to them.

"Hello, Kurt, Reed," He was smiling broadly. "Interesting performance."

The two just laughed, Kurt sliding a hand carefully over his hair to fix his bangs. Greg continued, "If you two manage to pull off that same energy for your other duet later this evening, I'd be very glad to put that particular song into our repertoire."

"Seriously?" Reed laughed, surprised.

"You two also seem to be quite good at movement. Ms. Medel and I would like to look into the possibility of a bit more movement in our routines as the New Directions are clearly able to move and sing."

"Sounds great!" Kurt said, grinning. "I already have ideas."

"Not too overboard, all right?" Greg smiled. "Shall we be expecting your parents? Both of you?"

"Yes," Kurt nodded, and Reed did the same, but he looked a trifle uncomfortable. Greg looked at him, and put a hand on his shoulder. "You'll do fine." And he left.

Kurt glanced at his friend. Reed glanced up at him and smiled. "I really liked performing with you out there. I didn't know it was that much fun to be the center of the performance."

"Of course it is," Kurt grinned. "And you'll dazzle your mom, I'm sure."

"Yeah…" Reed just smiled. He looked up to something behind Kurt, then grinned. "Gonna go make sure the twins keep their creepy off the girls and vice versa with Dwight." He fled.

Kurt was a little surprised, and he turned and found Blaine standing there with a smile. "Nice performance. Pretty unexpected."

"What can I say…I have many sides to me." Kurt smiled, turning a bit red. He was still wearing the fitting Cheerios uniform that showed off his body in devastating style. Blaine was contemplating it. He gestured to it.

"You should keep that, you know."

"Why?"

"It looks terribly good on you."

After hearing what he said in the hall, Kurt colored to his scalp. "Right…well…don't get used to it. It's not going to happen again."

"Who knows? Maybe it will. You've given the boys a taste and they'll want the Cheerios back. And I kind of like seeing you so lively." He smiled. "You looked happier as the center."

"And _that_, you'll definitely see again tonight."

* * *

_On the next episode: It was one unforgettable Winter night, where all dancing stops for one moment paused. The tableu stands with Kurt in the center, but not everyone in the ball is dancing off the same steps. There are many secrets and there are many whispers, and Kurt sees, however briefly, what is true, and what is not._


	13. The Wild One

_Hi, I'm C Coulter, your writer for this fic. _

**_Massive Update._**_ You have been warned._

_I tried to update yesterday, but it simply could not be done. Oh, I tried. Pretty hard, at that. However, something different happened to this episode. The events that took place in the Winter Festival were too big to simply cut and post. If it was cut in the middle, it wouldn't be enough._

_**The Wild One, **the next ep**, **stands as a turning point for the season. As said in the preview, it is where many truths come out for one moment. Kurt will finally learn why Dalton is the way it is and why its occupants have come to be the way they are.  
_

_And then there's him, Blaine and Logan. The battle may be between the Houses, but Dalton's triad of best singers are about to reach a hot point in their battles._

_I'm grateful to your patience and continued support of my work. It is truly an honor that so many of you have given me kind words of encouragement. Those who also follow the Dalton livejournal for updates deserve special mention. Thank you for your encouragement and help. I will do my best to respond to you as you have to me._

_Reed and the Twins have won most popular non-canon boys. Another running poll has replaced it._

_ Now, I have not slept in 36 hours. I will sleep. __I hope you all enjoy this episode. :)_

_(**I do not own Glee**.)_

* * *

**Dalton**

**Episode 13: The Wild One**

* * *

"No!" a huffy plop onto a plush bed.

"Reed, stop being ridiculous. You just sang _and_ danced for both Dalton and St. Patrick." Kurt glowered at him, starting to get incredibly annoyed.

"Yes, but when I did, I wasn't in front of the alums. And not in front of my mother! I nearly broke my neck when those girls threw me—what if I fall onstage?" Reed was biting his nails again and Kurt smacked his hand away. "Stop that. We've got two hours until performance. Stop psyching yourself out and let loose! You did all right at it earlier."

The countdown was two hours before the Winter fest. The boys, after the great St. Patrick victory, had all retreated back to their dormitories and began to pack. The fest marked the last day they were to be in school, and many of them would be leaving school with their parents when it ended.

Reed had spent his time fretting in his room, his things utterly unpacked. As far as he was concerned, he only needed to bring home books for the vacation homework—the Van Kamp heir would be the last person who would need to pack clothes or necessities. He wasn't even moving into Kurt's room until they returned next year.

Kurt had pulled his massive suitcase of things into Reed's room to try to talk some sense into the second lead, who seemed to be having even more stage fright than he had earlier in the field, mainly due to self-inflicted pressure. "You know, you just need to get back into the zone?" he suggested. "You said it yourself, you had fun out there. This time isn't going to be different. Call it a warm up." He got up and headed for Reed's gleaming Bose sound system.

"What are you doing?" Reed blinked as Kurt pushed some buttons. The drums pounded in, and at the first electric guitar riff, Reed's eyes widened.

"Oh no…oh no no no no—" he backed away as the Rent song continued to blast through the room.

"Yes, yes, yes—come on!" Kurt pulled him into the middle common of the room.

"But—"

"If you're not going to sing it, I'll start for you!"

_What's the time?_

_Well it's gotta be close to midnight_

_My body's talking to me_

_It says, 'Time for danger'_

Kurt was dancing circles around Reed, whose resolve seem to be breaking at the urge to laugh at Kurt's exaggeratedly flirty dancing. The first lead was barely able to control his laughter either, playing air guitar with the music. He pushed Reed forward, who was barely able to sing as he laughed, urging him to go crazy.

Reed threw clothes all over the room, shaking out his curls. "Sing already!" Kurt yelled, throwing a Chanel hat into his friend's face. Reed, smothering giggles, acquiesced:

_I've had a knack from way back_

_At breaking the rules once I learn the game_

_Get-up life's too quick_

_I know someplace sick_

_Where this chick'll dance it the flames_

Dancing wildly around the room, the two were starting to make quite a mess, and quite a ruckus, as the music continued to blast. Kurt swung around Reed's bedpost as the latter continued to headbang, hair whipping. The two sung loudly, hardly caring if they were heard.

_We don't need any money_

_I always get in for free_

_You can get in too_

_If you get in with me…_

_Let's go out tonight!_

_I have to go out tonight_

_You wanna play? Let's run away_

_We won't be back before it's New Years Day_

_Take me out tonight!_

The two burst out of the room with clothes flying everywhere, scaring the living daylights out of Dwight, who was in the hall carrying clean laundry. He stared as the twosome continued flailing down the hall.

Reed did a hammerslide down the hall and nearly would have crashed into one of the decorative vases if Kurt hadn't grabbed onto his arm with a laugh. Wes poked his head out of his room to watch the spectacle unfold.

"What the hell?" David stared from where he was coming up the stairs—the two charging past and music still tearing from Reed's open room.

The two continued to sing:

_When I get a wink from the doorman_

_Do you know how lucky you'll be?_

_That you're on line with the feline of Avenue B_

_Let's go—!_

The twins, coming out of the common room, saw them dancing down the stairs and heartily joined in, each one grabbing a lead singer and joined in their dancing in exaggerated near-perverse gestures. Blaine came out of the common room and stared in surprise.

_Let's go out tonight_

_I have to go out tonight_

_You wanna prowl, be my night owl!_

_Well take my hand, we're gonna howl_

_Out tonight—!_

Ethan, who had Kurt, flung him off to Blaine, who caught him in his arms, startled. Kurt only grinned, drunk with adrenaline. Amidst hoots from up above from the other Dalton boys, he sidled daringly up to Blaine and danced as he sang:

_Let's find a bar_

_So dark we forget who we are_

_And all the scars from the 'never's and 'maybe's die—!_

Blaine burst into laughter and grinned as he let him dance close, before releasing him and letting him join Reed and the twins again. This time nearly the whole crowd on the first floor joining in the dance—

_Let's go out tonight_

_Have to go out tonight_

_You're sweet—wanna hit the street?_

_Wanna wail at the moon like a cat in heat?_

_Just take me—out tonight!_

_Tonight!_

_Tonight!_

As the song ended, all of Windsor house burst into laughter and applause. Kurt had ended up against Blaine again, and the two laughed at each other, fingers lacing through their held hands. The twins and Reed were making exaggerated bows and throwing kisses at their "adoring" crowd.

"He's _definitely_ one of us now," David smirked as he watched Kurt gesture towards Reed again, causing the crowd to applaud further. "You're only a real Windsor when you end up doing something like _that_ on a whim."

"I'm so proud!" Wes exclaimed, pretending to be choked up in tears. "I can't wait until he makes his first case of destruction of property!"

The people downstairs were still laughing and bowing when there was the sound of someone clearing his throat loudly. They all turned to find that the doors to Windsor were open, and standing there was House Head Howard, looking at them with a frown. Next to him, nearly matching his height, was a very expensively-dressed woman from whose neck and ears dripped jewels and wore a pair of Chanel sunglasses in spite of the darkness of the night.

The boys froze. The clothes that Kurt and Reed were flinging around were still everywhere. The toilet paper rolls that the boys upstairs had thrown were bouncing down from the stairs and some fell from the overhead rails.

"Um…"

Howard frowned at them. "Don't most of you have packing to do?"

Kurt's eyes were magnetized to the woman. Her blonde hair was almost white with all the levels of platinum on her, severely pulled back from an incredible pair of cheekbones modeled with expensive makeup. His mental bauble department informed him that she was wearing no less than four designer labels on her size zero frame. When she took off her glasses to scan the mess, he recognized the brown eyes.

"Mom…" Reed murmured, turning shock white.

Hilde Van Kamp smiled tightly. "Hello, darling."

* * *

_I'm Kurt. And this is Dalton Academy._

_This is it. The last day before we all get out. I can't say I'll miss their antics, but I think I feel a twinge at the idea that I won't be seeing all the guys until next year._

…_and Blaine. I won't see Blaine again until next year._

_So now is all we've all got. _

_One night to close the year._

* * *

"Mrs. Van Kamp—" Howard began.

"Hilde, please." The woman said shortly.

"Hilde has come to see Reed," Howard nodded. He gave the boys an "I'm-watching-you" glower and stepped out.

"Mom, hi…" Reed breathed as he moved over to his mother, giving her a quick hug. He was received warmly by the towering woman—Reed inherited nothing of her height, but he had her eyes and her curls—who patted his back.

"Darling," said Hilde in a tone that only the truly chic were able to cultivate. She gingerly picked a piece of lint off her son's uniform lapel and then smiled brightly. "You look…well." She studied the band aids on the hands and the one on his arm. "You look well." She may have expected to find Reed injured more seriously. She tutted. "Reed, I told you not to fold up your sleeves." She tugged them down, and frowned at the wrinkles that resulted on the sleeves.

Supremely uncomfortable at the attention, Reed pried away from her a moment and gestured to the others. "I was just, um…"

"Hey, Ms. Hilde!" the twins chorused from where they stood, smiling, already very familiar with her.

"Hello boys," Hilde smiled and nodded to the others as well, "Blaine…" The prefect smiled gallantly. She looked up at the rail. "Wes, David…" the two cracked grins and nodded at her, heading downstairs. "and Dwight…" spiritualist awkwardly gave her a wave. And then her eyes landed on Kurt. She smiled even more broadly, if not tightly, now. "And this must be Kurt."

"Yes, I told you about him!" Reed said, elated. "He and I get along pretty well."

"I can tell," Hilde said, walking up to the rather starstruck countertenor. The woman was, after all, a famous, if not fearsome, fashion magazine editor who regularly shipped clothes that weren't even in stores yet to her son. "Reed tells me you have fine taste in clothing as well."

"Well, I try," Kurt preened, smiling.

"What were you and Reed doing just now?" she asked, sounding genuinely curious. "It sounded quite lively."

Seeing the look on Reed's face, Blaine quickly said, "They were singing. Just warming up for the performance later. Reed here had just been made one of the two leads in the Warblers' performance for tonight."

"He's really amazing," Kurt added.

The mother looked nonplussed for a moment, and Reed squirmed desperately, sensing danger. "Guys, you don't have to—"

"Sing? Lead?" Hilde looked confused. She frowned and looked down at Reed. "This is news to me. Is this a requirement? What about your painting for the big exhibit? Did you forget you're to have a gala exhibit by next week?"

"No…" Reed said softly. "It's—extracurricular. I'm…I'm a member of our school choir."

"Oh."

Kurt knew that that "oh" meant. It was something fashion editors did when they looked at a piece that they didn't particularly love nor particularly hated. Steeling himself, he quickly said, "The Warblers won Sectionals this year. Reed was one of us."

"So you're one too…" Hilde murmured, giving Kurt a thorough appraisal with her eyes. Kurt found it odd how she could look so frigid when she had the same warm brown eyes Reed had. She seemed to deem him harmless when she just shrugged slightly in her fur stole and looked at her son. "Now, darling, this is nice and all, but hadn't you called me over for something else?"

"What do you mean?" Reed asked awkwardly.

"I assumed you've completed your paintings, of course," Hilde said bluntly. "You have a gala in a few days. I still must ask you to consider photography, dear—you might do so much better with it. And if you want to get cracking on design, I imagined you would've also completed your portfolio by now. I'm to give it to Tim Gunn next week?"

The expression on Reed's face made everyone in the entrance hall look positively uncomfortable. Some of the boys had already left to give them privacy, and not willing to watch this. The Windsor conspirators stayed watching silently.

Reed flustered, "I wanted you to come and watch me! That's why I called you! You heard me singing just now, right? What—what did you think?"

Hilde looked at her son with boundless affection—and what may have been sympathy. "That's really very nice, darling. Mommy is very happy for you. Just as long as you don't forget what's really important." She patted his cheek. "Don't forget, you're on the verge of becoming a household name. Don't you worry, I'll handle everything and make sure you get what you deserve."

"So…you're not going to watch me sing…?" Reed asked softly as his mother started digging into her bag, pulling out what was unmistakably the solid gold D&G phone. Hilde seemed to sigh, "Of course I'll watch, dear… But you won't mind if we don't stay for cocktails? Our flight will leave for New York in a few hours and I haven't yet contacted the rep at Monique Lhullier about that gown they want to make for the princess-to-be…"

"Ms. Hilde?" the twins spoke up. Evan said, "If you like…you can go ahead. We're also flying to the East Coast, we'll take Reed in our jet."

_Jet_…? If Kurt hadn't been so startled at Hilde's inability to detect her son's discomfort, he would've gaped at the twins.

"Really." Hilde blinked.

"Yes, he'll be fine with us," said Ethan with a smile. "We'll…keep him busy."

"That's fine, then," Hilde waved it on and put the phone to her ear. She gave Reed a short hug. "Talk to you later at the ballroom, sweetie. Yes, hello? Patricia! I saw those photos from the show…" she walked out of Windsor without another word.

Silence fell over the hall.

Reed was staring at the floor. Kurt walked up to him, not knowing exactly what to say. He put a hand on his shoulder. "…Reed?"

The shorter boy looked up, smiling a little. "Yeah, that's mom. She's…pretty awesome, huh? She's got everyone at her feet."

Blaine looked at him, almost apologetic in his expression. "She'll come around, Reed. She loves you to bits, she just…" he shook his head, as though realizing how the earlier exhibition did not entirely support those words. "I know if she hears you sing onstage tonight, she'll get it. There's just no way she wouldn't."

"It's not a big deal," Reed said firmly. He held his head up, blinking. "This had always been the plan for me. I paint, I design—I take over. I like painting anyway, so it makes sense. She's only looking out for me anyway… Being a Warbler is…" he trailed off.

"…something you just really want to do…?" Kurt finished.

Wes crossed his arms over his chest. "Was that on a whim, Reed? When you joined? Because when I saw you audition, you were scared to death but you fought for it."

"Medel saw that you gave it everything—that's why she let you join, right? And for the lead for this performance?" David added, raising an eyebrow. "You fought for that too. You were sure you were outclassed, but you ran into it anyway."

"Doesn't sound like anything _you_ would do just because you felt like it…" the twins tilted their heads at him.

"Guys…" Reed shook his head, as though trying to convince himself. "Mom isn't…shutting me down or anything! She looks out for me. If she saw that I really had potential, she would…support me. Maybe all she's saying is that I…I just don't have a future in singing." He shrugged with a laugh that had no conviction. "I have the rest of high school to sing with you guys. I have that at least, right? So when I stop…I could look back at this and see that I had a great time."

The boys looked at each other. From above, Dwight looked displeased, openly glowering. Reed smiled a little. "I…got to go upstairs. Change uniforms. Mom hates wrinkles." He motioned to his sleeves and went upstairs, picking his way through the mess.

As soon as he was gone, Kurt looked at the others with a frown. "How long has he been like that?" he demanded. "I knew his mom didn't approve, but you didn't tell me he's gone into that frame of thinking."

"There's nothing you can actually do about his mother," Blaine said haltingly, not approving of the situation. "Reed's her only child. She's placed her _fashion empire_ on his shoulders. She'd been doing that since he was eleven."

"But he really wants to sing!" Kurt protested.

"And we really want him to keep doing it," David said patiently. "We know Reed can sing, we know he's amazing. But did you hear what he said? What will happen to him after that?"

"A lot of the kids here…they've got the same deal," explained Wes. "They go to boarding school, get excellent marks, then go on to take over their parents' businesses. It's been like that from generation to generation. …even with us."

"Hasn't anyone here ever asked what _Reed_ actually wants to do with his life?" Kurt exploded, making them all wince. He turned and stomped upstairs. "Kurt…" Blaine began, but he thought better of it and let him go.

Dwight gave the furious one room as he came down to the others. He sighed and looked at them. "This is what they call culture shock, I imagine."

"I take it Kurt has no plans on inheriting his dad's garage…?" Evan said, trying to see the situation from the other boy's point of view.

"Like neither of you ever complained about how things are," grumbled Dwight. He threw up his arms. "I want to go out into the open road! Saving people, hunting things! I want to be something more than Dwight Houston, theme park-owner-to-be! I don't even get to go on the rides anytime I want!"

"Dwight—"

Blaine glared at them. "He has a point. I don't know about the rest of you, but I think Reed needs to have a say in all this. He looked like his mother just _shot_ him when she said that she didn't even come to hear him sing originally." He sighed. "If Reed really wants what his mom wants, then there's nothing we can do. But if, for the barest chance, he wanted to do something else with his life—the same way the rest of _us_ do—we have to at least help him fight to be heard."

"His mother scares me," Dwight muttered. "We're going up against _that_? She'll eat us alive."

"It's not going to be done in one night," David warned. "It'll take progressively breaking down her resolve."

There was a moment of consideration. Then the twins smiled.

"Challenge accepted."

* * *

Contrary to popular opinion, the Orion Ballroom was not named for the great glass and gold skydome it had that was dotted with lights, that revealed the night sky outside. It was a clear Ohio evening, and stars twinkled overhead, slightly overpowered by the mass of candles and lights that decorated the entire ballroom itself. The selection of flowers were so white and pale that the place almost began to look as though it were a wedding.

Students, alumni and parents were already entering the hall in their cocktail wear. The Warblers were the only students there dressed in uniforms. The Warblers opened and closed the Music Fest as they did every year, performing before and after all the individual competitors from each house made their move.

"Dad!" Kurt ran down the entrance hall to over to his father and gave him a big hug. Burt laughed and hugged his son, patting him heavily on the back. Kurt sighed happily. "I missed you guys so much."

"Oh, we missed you too, Kurt," Carole said warmly, smiling and giving him a hug. Kurt hugged her back and smiled at his two parents. Finn was not in attendance—the Cheerios had told Kurt earlier that the McKinley glee club were invading Schuester's home for the night, and Kurt had asked them to greet him a Merry Christmas in his stead.

"Gotta say, we were worried about you," Burt admitted, wearing what was unmistakably the same tux suit he had worn to the wedding, without the tie. "Especially after you got snowed in that one time. You're all right here, right? No problems?"

"Yeah," Kurt said, smiling. "They guys are…well, they're not really problems. They're very…excitable."

Burt gave him a look that made it seem that he didn't really understand what that meant, and Carole said, "Well that's good to hear. You know, Finn might not show it very much, but he's trying very hard to be there for you. He seemed a bit worried even after he met all your friends."

"I know he is—and while he as some good reason to, he doesn't need to," Kurt said with a small smile, remembering how this time last year, he would have killed to have Finn Hudson worrying about him. "In fact, I need him to stop being neurotic. He's got his own problems." He smiled at his father again and hugged him again. After earlier's events, he just realized even more how fortunate he was to have a father like him. "Really missed you."

"You miss us that much, then you oughto come home," Burt said, smiling a bit, half-joking. "You had to go to boarding school just when we found a house that'd give everyone their own rooms…"

Kurt just laughed.

* * *

From down the hall, Logan leaned by one of the columns, watching Kurt talk to his family. Derek hovered near him, still not looking pleased. Unlike Logan, Derek was not in uniform and looked clean cut in pleated pants and a high-necked shirt with a jacket.

"What are you going to do now?" he asked the taller boy, who never took his eyes off Kurt. Logan just shook his head. "I don't know either."

Derek gave him a long look, then shook his head and glanced at his watch. "Whatever, I'm going to go pick up my date. You're gonna manage being by yourself for _ten minutes_?" he asked sarcastically.

"Get out of here, Derek," said Logan, straightening up and brushing his collar off.

Derek took two steps, stopped and turned. "…did you take your medication?"

"_Yes_," Logan said in an ingratiatingly polite voice. But he forced a smile at him. "I'm fine, man. I love my haze of gray nothing. Get out of here, go get your date. I'm to pick up mine." He smiled and backed from his friend. Derek just rolled his eyes, shaking his head as he went down the hall.

Logan waited for him to go and turned back to where Kurt stood, without any of the other Windsors. Just him and his parents.

Of course he didn't take them. He liked how he felt when he was near Kurt. If he was numbed down, he wouldn't have that. It was the only thing that made him smile anymore. And the others just didn't seem to understand that.

As he approached, he saw Kurt look up. To his vast surprise, Kurt smiled when he saw him. For a moment, he wondered if Blaine was behind him. He glanced around and saw no one. He turned back and saw Kurt laughing a little.

Kurt felt too happy at the sight of his parents to be angry at anyone anymore tonight. He turned to his parents and said, "And speaking of the Warblers…" he gestured to Logan. "This is Logan. He's one of the lead singers."

"Good evening, Mr. and Mrs. Hummel," Logan smiled, genuinely, for the first time days. "Pleased to meet you."

"This one we haven't met before," Carole said, smiling appreciatively at the tall boy as Logan shook hands with Burt. "We saw some of the others when you moved your stuff out, right Kurt?"

"No, Logan's from another dormitory," Kurt explained. "Blaine and the others are from the same one I'm in."

At the mention of his rival's name, Logan felt somewhat jilted, but he pushed it aside with ease when Kurt glanced at him again with those eyes of his. He said to Burt, "I heard you worked on cars, Mr. Hummel."

"You can call me Burt," said the older man with a nod. "And yes, I do."

"Is Kurt any good at that too? Because so far, all I've ever seen him do is sing and put together some really crazy outfits." Logan grinned. Kurt gaped at him and punched him lightly in the arm.

Burt laughed. "Boy, you should see him when I ask him to work in those clothes of his—"

"_Calling the attention of the Warblers…_" came the voice of Ms. Medel over the sound system. "_Please gather in the green room in five minutes. Thank you."_

"Ah…isn't that always the way…" Logan smiled, glancing to the stage. He looked at Kurt. "It's your big debut."

"So it is…" Kurt sighed, smiling broadly. "Finally. It only took a couple of weeks to put me in my right spot." To which Logan laughed.

"You'll do great," Carole said encouragingly. "Break a leg out there."

"Let's go?" Logan asked Kurt with a smile, and the countertenor nodded. He looked to the parents. "Catch you guys later."

"See you, dad," said Kurt, as he left with the taller boy.

As they left, Carole had a knowing smile on her face as she watched them head off towards the green room. Burt saw her expression, and frowned a bit. "What?"

"You didn't notice?" she asked.

"Notice what?"

"The way Logan smiled at Kurt. He looked…really happy."

"Then maybe he's just _really happy_," Burt harrumphed, crossing his arms over his chest. In his private opinion, he found Logan a little intense. And that his son was getting a little too popular. And for no apparent reason, he suddenly wondered where his shotgun was.

"I know that look…" laughed Carole when she saw his expression. "Don't you think it's nice that people here like Kurt? It's certainly better than back in McKinley…"

"As long as it's all _platonic_…" Burt grumbled under his breath. "I'm just not prepared to have any conversations with Kurt right now about—"

"Hey, Mr. Hummel!" the parents looked up to see Blaine approaching them with a smile. He too was already impeccably dressed in his school uniform. Carole immediately brightened up, recognizing him. "Hello, Blaine."

Burt just nodded, spotting another 'potential' and wondering where these boys were coming from. At least _this_ one, Kurt seemed to like. Blaine just smiled. "Glad you could make it. Have you seen Kurt yet?"

"Yeah, we just saw him," Burt answered, nodding again. "He just headed for the, uh, green room. With that other boy—what's his name?—Logan."

Carole caught that flicker of alarm flashed through Blaine's eyes and felt a little concerned. She carefully pointed to where the two went. "You can still catch up to them. They went down there."

"Thanks, Mrs. Hummel." Blaine nodded at Burt with a smile. "See you later, Mr. Hummel." And barely able to remain composed, he fled their presence. Burt, watching him go and rather aghast at his exodus, now turned to Carole. "What was that all about?"

"Now Burt…" Carole put a comforting hand on his arm and smiled. "I think Blaine has it under control."

"What? How do you know?" he glanced back to where Blaine went and then back at his new wife. "You actually trust those kids?"

"Not a bit—but I trust Blaine enough to know that he'll look after Kurt," she answered with a smile. "You saw them back when they visited. He's practically attached to his hip—"

"Can we not have that kind of discussion right now, Carole…?" Burt looked like he was having a migraine. Carole laughed and led him towards the main area, where the cocktail tables crowded, wreathed in light.

* * *

Blaine hurried down the hallway, for the first time cursing the size of Dalton's largest event hall. He had never been comfortable in leaving any of the Windsors alone with Logan—though how the Twins stood to be borderline friendly with the Stuart prefect eluded him—much less leaving him alone with Kurt. He could help remembering that time in Sectionals when Kurt came back shaken and Logan had cut knuckles.

Something had happened then, and something was going to happen now.

"Blaine—Blaine!"

He stopped at a familiar voice and turned around. Someone was hurrying to him, his pearl gray jacket undone again and his shirt barely completely closed. Blaine stared in surprise and confusion at someone he had not quite expected to be present. "Shane?"

"Hey, big brother!" grinned the boy who actually stood taller than his brother, but had the same crop of dark hair. Blaine's was tamed down with product, but this newcomers' curls hung free and around his head. He was Blaine's contrast—where Blaine looked utterly tidy, Shane was the appearance of haste and flighty expression. Blaine was short, stocky and put together, but Shane was taller, leaner and languorous. But they both shared a notable resemblance to each other. He reached him, panting, and clapped a hand on his older brother's shoulder. "Found you!"

"Aren't you supposed to be in Colorado?" Blaine asked, confused, staring at him and helping him stand.

"Was," shrugged the newcomer with a grin, his green-gray eyes sparkling in mischief. "Back early for the holidays! Boarding school blows. Mine, I mean, not yours. Seen mom and dad yet?"

Blaine paused with only the slightest widening of his eyes. "…dad came?"

"Yeah," Shane sighed. "They're taking us all off to the West Coast for the holidays."

The older's smile tightened. "I never go anywhere with dad for the holidays, Shane."

"Please?" Shane begged, staring at him, immediately losing his smile. "Come on, Blaine, you can at least try. Don't you think it's time that you and dad—"

Blaine pushed away Shane's hand on his shoulder, shaking his head briefly. "No. I think what happened over last year's Thanksgiving party was enough."

"Dad was just—"

"He insisted on setting me up with a _girl_! Does that tell you anything?"

"All right—so he did." The younger boy sighed deeply. "And yes, I do admit that was colossal asshattery in dad's part. If it makes you feel any better, I haven't had that much second hand embarrassment since Jessica Simpson asked if buffalo wings were from buffaloes."

Blaine smiled a little and patted his brother's shoulder. "Look at us. I haven't seen you in forever and this is what we're talking about. You all right?"

"Eh…same. Bored. Studying. Bored. Sports. Bored." He paused. "Started dating again."

Blaine raised an eyebrow. Shane turned crimson. "Don't look at me like that, Blaine. You took the bullet for me, I might as well keep up good behavior."

"And you wonder why I don't want to come home."

"Don't do this, Blaine, come on, please?" the younger brother looked at a loss. "I know dad's been…well he's been hard on you. But think about mom! Think about me! We want to see you, man—you can't run away for the holidays again. See, we all came to see you today." He gave him a big smile, opening his arms, preparatory to engulfing him in a gargantuan hug. "Don't do this. Come home."

Blaine started to explain, but then thought better of it and sighed. "People have been telling me not to do things all week…" he stopped and remembered his original errand. "Ah—_damn it! _Shane, you made me forget what I was running around for!" he bolted down the hall.

"Hey you're not getting away from me!" his brother exclaimed, chasing him. "What's the matter with you—you forget how to properly end a conversation?"

"I have to find Logan and Kurt!" Blaine shot back.

"Logan—? Logan's here again? I thought you said your boyfriend got kicked out?"

Blaine nearly killed him, lunging at him and just missing him. "He's not my boyfriend anymore!"

"What? _Why_?" Shane stared. "You were crazy about him! And that other guy, what's his name—"

Blaine sometimes wondered why he liked his brother so much when he seemed incapable of being _quiet_. They were already being given odd looks by the people in the hall that they raced past. Wes, who was getting a drink of water, straightened up to see the two of them charging towards him.

Wes blinked. "Hey Blaine. And…Shane? What the hell, man, when'd you get back?"

"Oh, just this morning!" was the answer with a friendly grin, giving the still confused Wes a high five.

"Have you seen Kurt?" Blaine asked desperately.

"Who's Kurt again?" Shane blinked. "Is he your new boyfriend? Damn, bro—how many'd you have while I was gone?"

Wes waved Shane's question away—it was too complicated a query. "Haven't seen him. Medel's _looking_ for him. Harvey's prepared to issue sanction if he's late!"

"His parents told me he was with Logan," Blaine said.

Wes' eyes widened and he blanched so fast that Shane grabbed the water cup and threw it into his face. Spluttering, Wes snatched the cup back from Shane with a glare. "What's the _matter_ _with you_?"

"You totally phased out, man."

"Shane, not now, please—" Blaine pushed his brother away for a moment. Shane threw up his hands dramatically, turning on his heel. "They were supposed to be in the green room—"

"Hey!" Reed came skidding towards them. "You guys—woah!" he tripped over his own feet, for what must have been the third time that day—and landed ungracefully onto the floor.

Wes bent down and helped him up, rolling his eyes. "How you managed to do the entire Cheerios performance without a hitch is beyond my understanding."

"No, actually, that was just lucky—and those girls were really strong," Reed hastily brushed off his pants. "We're on in a bit! I'm not going out there by myself—where's Kurt?"

"Why is everyone looking for that guy?" Shane asked, wide-eyed, turning back to them, waving his arms.

"Who is he?" Reed asked, blinking up at Shane.

"Someone who's just leaving?" Blaine said emphatically at his brother, looking to get him out of his hair for five seconds. But Shane slid past him smoothly—in a manner disturbingly reminiscent of Blaine's twirling dance steps—and grinned his most winning smile. "Hi, I'm—" he stopped instantly, staring. "…oh."

Reed blinked up at him, a little confused at his abrupt stop. "Um, I'm Reed…are you okay?"

After a beat, Shane blinked and came to. "Pardon me for five seconds." He grabbed Blaine by the jacket and hauled him to the side in spite of the older one's struggles. "Whoisthat."

"_What_?" Blaine stared.

"_Whoisthat!_" Shane lost his pauses when unnerved, he flailed towards Reed's direction.

"Didn't he just introduce himself to you?"

"Whatiswrongwithhim? Whydidyounotmentionhim?"

"I _did—_you never listen to me. Shane, this is really not the time—!"

It was at this point that Logan and Kurt reappeared into the hallway, stopping short at the small crowd in the way. Simultaneously, at the other end of the hall, David materialized with Derek—who had with him Tabitha Adams—both looking deeply unhappy. They stopped upon seeing the assembled.

At the same moment, Greg and Sylvia came through an adjoining hall—the former looking furious, the latter looking worried. They were flanked by Hilde and a man in impeccable clothing that they didn't at once recognize.

The entire mass stared at each other.

David's eyes widened. "Wes?"

"David?" his best friend blinked, and looked at the two with him. "Tabitha?"

"Derek?" Reed stared at the pair with David.

"Reed!" Hilde gasped at the sight of her once again rumpled son.

"Shane?" Logan stared, confused, at the sight of Blaine's brother.

"Kurt?" Blaine looked, also confused.

"Logan!" the man in the suit looked as though he would explode.

"_What the hell is going on here_?" Greg finally boomed, causing every boy in the hall to wince at his uncommon wrath. "You're all on in five minutes! What are you doing here? Kurt! Reed! Let's go!"

"My goodness…" Hilde swooped down and grabbed her son's wrist, looking annoyed. She pulled him to her and quickly tried to straighten him up.

But the man in the suit crossed the hall and straight up to Logan, who looked up at him without batting an eye. The man looked distinguished, with dark blond hair that grayed slightly at the sides. And he had Logan's eyes. He grabbed Logan's elbow.

"You're coming with me, right now, I've had enough of this."

"No, I'm not!" Logan shot back, tearing himself free, looking furious. "Why the hell are you even here?"

"Logan!" Sylvia said, scandalized. She looked up at the man. "Mr. Wright, please—this isn't the place—"

"What's this I hear that you haven't been taking your medication?" the man snarled to his son. "Have you _completely_ lost your mind?"

Every student that wasn't a Stuart now looked confused. Blaine looked from him to Logan, brow furrowed. "Medication?"

Kurt looked startled. "What do you mean he takes medication? For what?"

Logan, stunned, turned to Derek, who turned white. "I didn't tell him, Logan, I swear!"

"It doesn't matter who told me!" John Logan Wright, Jr. exploded onto his son, the third. "You can't be doing this to yourself anymore, Logan! I'm taking you back to New York right now!"

Logan stepped back, his whole body vibrating in rage. "You're not taking me anywhere! You _left_ me here when you couldn't take the heat! When you knew I'd ruin you trying to run for office!" Breathing hard, he grabbed Kurt's wrist. Kurt looked startled and Blaine moved to peel him off, but Kurt stopped him. He was looking up at Logan as though analyzing him.

Logan glanced around frantically and pointed to his father. "And you know what? I _like_ it here. It might totally _suck _and it might be in the middle of fucking nowhere, and maybe everyone in here hates my guts, but I'm not going anywhere! I want to _be someplace _for once! I'm sick of you dropping me whenever it's inconvenient to you!"

"Stop it—_STOP_!" Greg finally exploded. "All of you!"

Silence.

The entire hall looked deeply awkward. Greg glowered at them all. He turned to Wes and David. "Find the Dean. Tell her we're going to be a little late."

"But—"

"_GO!_" and the two fled, throwing confused looks at the others. Wes dragged the frightened Tabitha along with him.

Hilde grabbed Reed's wrist and pulled him away from the scene. "Mom!" Reed cried.

"Let's _go_,Reed," she said with blunt finality. Reed pulled her to a stop and tore his wrist away from her. "No." he said shakily. "I've got to be with my friends." And he ran back to the others. Hilde stood staring at her son's suddenness.

Greg glanced at Logan, seeing the look in his eyes. He seemed to be completely aware of Logan's condition. He carefully said, "Logan. Please let go of Kurt."

Logan shook. He glanced at Kurt, and saw that he looked a little shaken. This made him let go immediately, realizing what he was doing. "I…"

His father now made to move forward to charge at him again, but to everyone's surprise, Blaine leapt between them, blocking his way. Mr. Wright loomed down at him, but Blaine didn't move. "I think Logan said he wanted to stay," he said quietly.

Derek glanced at them and crossed the room, standing next to Blaine. "Logan's doing all right, Mr. Wright," Derek said formally. "While it's true he stopped taking his medication, I can make sure he doesn't forget again."

"He didn't _forget_," Mr. Wright snarled, glowering at his now shaken-looking son. "It had been intentional."

"We know that," Greg said, looking up at him as he joined the two boys. "But Logan really _is_ improving here. I've never seen him try so hard to control himself before. If you make him leave here now…I can't tell you that it'll make things better."

Logan was sitting down against the wall now, Kurt next to him. He held his hand tightly, blue eyes looking determined. "Calm down," he commanded.

"I'm trying…" Logan muttered. He glanced at him. "Why are you even here?"

"Because I can be." Kurt looked intently at him. "I want the guy I met in Warbler's Hall back. The one who sang because he wanted to and played piano. I don't want this angry _thing _you've turned yourself into. Come on and change back, Logan. I don't know what's happening to you or why, but we've got you." He nodded towards the other boys. "Look over there."

Logan raised his eyes and saw Blaine, Reed and Derek standing in his father's path. His eyes rested on Blaine longest. Kurt saw this and smiled a little. "If you've got even Blaine fighting for you, you better not disappoint."

The taller boy swallowed, looking calmer now. Kurt released him and got up, joining the others. He stood next to Blaine and both looked up to Logan's father.

Sylvia looked at the boys, then up at Senator Wright. "Sir, with all due respect, I'd like to remind you of the conversation we had last year. …we'd like to keep Logan for one more year."

Mr. Wright snorted like a bull. "He doesn't need a glee club—he needs _therapy_."

"We _are_ his therapy," Derek said quietly. "We've got Logan all right here. Sure some of us…" he didn't look at Blaine, "…may not like him all that much… But we need him here, I think, more than you do back at New York."

The man stood, not prepared to accept this. He glanced at his son, slumped next to the wall, looking up at him with clear green eyes. On either side of him, from nowhere, it seemed, he recognized Evan and Ethan Brightman. The twin boys, who had witnessed the whole spectacle, now chose for the first time to show themselves. But unlike the others, they were completely unafraid of the Senator.

"Hello, Mr. Wright," said Evan.

"Long time no see," nodded Ethan.

"We'll take Logan from here."

"You know you can trust us."

John Wright recognized the two strange twins that had once befriended his son during Junior High. He looked at the crowd that stood between him and his son and shook his head slowly. He turned to Greg. "I'm holding you personally responsible for all of this."

"Oh, I sure hope so," Greg said, looking intently.

"I still can't allow this so easily."

Suddenly, Evan said, "Mr. Wright? Have you heard Logan sing?"

The strange question made everyone look at him. Ethan smiled. "Yes, have you?"

"Logan doesn't sing," the senator looked bewildered.

Kurt almost smiled. "Are you sure about that?"

The man glanced to the boy at the wall. Logan smiled faintly to himself, and all the Warblers slowly smiled. Even Blaine, and he said, "I really think you should."

* * *

In the grand ballroom, there were no distinctions in Windsors, Stuarts, or Hanovers. There was only black and white and gray—everyone was dressed according to the color themes on the invitations. The sea of onlookers, comprised of the school's biggest donors, alums, professors and students with their guests, were watching the stage as Logan stood alone in the spotlight.

In that ocean, Mr. Wright watched, his new wife Michelle standing next to him and holding onto his arm. Behind Logan, Derek and several boys from his dorm began to play music. The other Warblers, robbed of the opening performance due to their lateness in getting it all together, now peered from the wings, watching him.

As _When I Die Young _now began to close upon his cue, Logan looked at his father once—the only time the entire performance—before he began.

_If I die young bury me in satin_

_Lay me down on a bed of roses_

_Sink me in the river at dawn_

_Send me away with the words of a love song…_

_Oh…_

The audience began to smile. From where he stood, the Mr. Wright gave a barely perceptible start, while his rather adorable new young wife smiled largely. Logan didn't even notice them anymore.

_Lord make me a rainbow, I'll shine down on my mother_

_She'll know I'm safe with you when she stands under my colors, oh and_

_Life ain't always what you think it ought to be, no_

_ain't even grey, but she buries her baby_

_The sharp knife of a short life, well _

_I've had just enough time…_

The Warblers looked at each other, grinning and jostling each other's elbows. Logan had always been distant and somehow icy, but for the first time, they heard him sing with vulnerability. Regardless of what they thought of him, he really was good.

_If I die young bury me in satin_

_Lay me down on a bed of roses_

_Sink me in the river at dawn_

_Send me away with the words of a love song_

_The sharp knife of a short life, well…_

_I've had just enough time…_

Kurt and Blaine stood at the wings, with Kurt standing by the curtain rope, and Blaine leaning on a table. Blaine watched Logan without expression. Kurt glanced at him, and with a brief smile. "…are you proud of him?"

Blaine glanced at him. "…not particularly."

"Is that why you didn't tell me that you and he…had gone out before?" Kurt asked carefully.

"I didn't tell you…because I didn't want to remember," Blaine answered. "Logan was hell back last year. …I don't think I'm able to forgive him. Or even consider it."

This edge to Blaine was something of a marvel to Kurt. "But you protected him from his father."

Blaine sighed, still watching Logan. "…he and I have that in common. Fathers. With issues." He looked at Kurt now and smiled. "You're lucky to have Burt."

"You have no idea how much I know that," Kurt smiled, spotting his father and Carole out in the audience, listening to Logan as well. He looked back to Blaine. "You really must have liked Logan then, huh? To hate him this much now?"

"I thought I did," Blaine admitted. "Then I just…it left me. When he left me for someone else."

"Let me guess. The last second soloist?"

"…yeah. Him, Logan and me…we were friends. At first, Logan liked me, and we started going out. When he started getting, you know…angry, things began to change. I distanced myself from him, because when he's angry, he just…" he exhaled. "It got messy."

"Where does the ex-soloist come in?"

"He took care of me, because I was new. We got close. I thought I loved him too—I guess I just wanted someone to hold onto. I was still fresh from my old school. It turns out, it was Logan that he liked. And vice versa. I was pretty much just in the middle of them both. So I let them both go."

"And then…?"

"Logan knows he can sing well…but when our friend became popular and started to get taken in for leads… he got jealous. He started to become abusive to him too. Our friend ended up hanging around with me, because we both fell victim to Logan's anger, and it was weirdly something we could talk about. And when Logan found _that_ out…that he preferred staying with me over him, well…" he trailed off.

Kurt shook his head, not really able to take in everything he was hearing. "You have one of the most convoluted love issues I've ever heard. You'd fit in beautifully in McKinley."

He paused. "…is that why you tried to keep him away from me? You're worried he'll crush me?"

"People don't change overnight," Blaine said, studying Logan. "You saw how he can get. He's trying, and I can give him that, but…I'm not ready to let him come near anyone important to me again."

Kurt flushed slightly, looking at him. _Important…to him. _"Mm…I can see what you mean." Kurt smirked and turned back to Logan, lifting his head higher a bit. "I'll be fine. You have to stop protecting me. It's tiring." _Yes, the mentor-student thing is kind of old. And I know that everything flies out the window if I'm reading this all wrong. But I want to give this a shot so badly, you have no idea._

Blaine's hand closed on his. Kurt looked up. Blaine glanced at him and smiled briefly. "Separation anxiety. What do I do now that I don't have to look after you?"

* * *

"Kiss him?"

"Be his boyfriend?"

"Toss him onto a bed and let us all lock your door and escape the house?"

The Windsor boys glowered as they listened to the pair at the wings. David was glowering. "I mean, hot _damn_, nothing is happening. Where are the emergency maneuvers?"

"We did them," the twins blinked. "We would've gotten a move on, but the Logan issue in the hall—"

"Damn it, Logan!" David grumbled.

Wes came into the room, looking depressed. David turned sympathetic. "Sorry, man. But you know Derek hasn't met a hot cheerleader that he didn't eventually get his hands on."

"I really _liked_ Tabitha!" Wes protested. "I can't believe she's dating _him _now! Captain Crackpot! It's annoying when the person you like is such a pain but after you see her running off with someone else, it just feels like _you're_ the pain."

Dwight, who had just peered in backstage, now frowned. "I'm sorry, did I just step into a teen movie?"

"Shh!" the others hissed, gesturing to Kurt and Blaine.

"You'll get her back…" David said, patting his shoulder. "She'll realize Derek is a douche. Then she'll be back with you."

"No, I don't want her to "realize" he's a douche, I want to do something that'll make her see _me_ as the better guy," Wes mumbled. He sighed. "Like you do with Katherine."

David fidgeted. "Between us, Katherine is the saint, not me." He looked to the twins. "What are they doing now?"

"Logan's almost done. Which means Blaine is coming on. Which means it's time for him to hit it and blow Kurt's mind so he'll fall madly for our favorite acting prefect. Which would subsequently lead to the improvement of _all our lives_ when Blaine stops whining to David and Wes, and Kurt stops skirting around the topic when he talks to Reed."

* * *

When Logan finished, the applause that rose from the crowd solidified his position as one of Dalton's strongest leads, and far more than was even he was usually given. He smiled a little bit, took his bows, and nodded to the Stuart band that accompanied him. He glanced to the wings. Blaine was standing there with Kurt, who was the only one clapping between them.

Logan turned away. In the crowd, he could no longer spot his father. He wondered if he stayed to the end, or if he just left. He exited through the wing opposite of where the Windsor leads were. That was when Sylvia, smiling warmly, gave him a hug and showed him a note.

"Your father had to leave. But he told me to give you this."

Logan took the note and opened it.

"_You can have one more year. Michelle wants you home for Christmas and New Year."_

The note crumpled into his hand as he closed it. He exhaled, closing his eyes, and nodded to himself. He turned back to where Kurt and Blaine were. They were talking again, and Blaine was holding Kurt's hand. Logan felt a twinge, a hot surge that he swallowed down.

He walked backstage, and out the door. He found Derek waiting outside. "Your old man bailed," he informed him.

"I know." Logan extended a hand. "I owe you."

Derek looked at the hand and slapped a pill container into it instead. He glowered at him. "If you want to thank me, get your act together. I'm not saying I want you to feel nothing all the time. …but it would help if you didn't go aggro all the time."

Logan stared at the bottle that promised numbness. He glanced back to where he had seen Blaine and Kurt, then back at the container.

_If it gets me closer to him…I can try. I have to try._

* * *

Kurt watched as Reed talked to Shane, who he'd been told was Blaine's younger brother. They had their similarities, but Shane was an open book of expressions. And right now the expression he was giving Reed was priceless.

"Your brother has something in his eye," Kurt smiled at Blaine, gesturing over to where the two were talking. "It appears to be madness. And it's wonderful how flustered Reed is. His emotional capacity can't handle this kind of attention. Your brother is always like this?"

"Please don't make me explain—I'd love to, but I _can't_." Blaine sighed as he brushed his uniform free of dust from backstage. "He's beyond me. My only gratitude is that he is only here for the holidays and will return to his own school in Colorado."

He smiled at him. "Do me a favor when I get out there, though?"

"What?"

"Listen." Blaine gave him the kind of smile that reduced mere mortals to putty. "Listen carefully." And he walked onto the stage.

Kurt stared after him, stunned and wondering what he had in mind. He stood for a moment in the wings, wondering if he should stay or go out into the crowd and get a better vantage point.

* * *

From the other side of the backstage, near the door, Derek looked at Logan. "Don't, man. It's not going to be good."

"I'll take the meds, but before that, I just want to tell him while I can say it with conviction," Logan muttered.

"You're not blind, right? You see him looking at Blaine right now, right?" Derek stared. "You're still going to go for it?"

"I have to beat him to the punch—that's all it takes."

"You can't do that in front of all these people!" Derek hissed, motioning to the other Warblers backstage who were gathering to watch Blaine's performance, representing Windsor. Logan glanced at him. "Watch me." And he headed straight for Kurt. Derek groaned and came in tensely, closing the door to backstage.

Logan took a breath. _I'll be damned if I don't get a word in…not after today when he stood by me. _

* * *

Kurt looked up when he felt someone move next to him. He nearly jumped when he saw Logan standing there. He was holding a container in his hand, tucked away in his hand. He looked at him with a smile.

"Can I…talk to you for a minute?"

As this caught the attention of the rest of the boys waiting backstage, Kurt hesitated. Blaine was already getting ready to play, and he didn't want to miss it. "Uh…"

"You just have to listen. Don't talk. Just listen."

Kurt looked up at the taller boy, a little apprehensive. "What?"

Logan's breath shivered as he exhaled. He reached out and took Kurt's hands. They were warm, while his own remained cold. At his action, Derek stopped where he was right next to the Windsor boys. "He's seriously going to do this? Now? Here?"

"What the _hell_ Logan—!" Wes stepped forward, but David pulled him back. "Don't make a mess now, man—we're in the middle of a performance!"

"I'll perform with my fist on his face!"

"Wes—shh!"

"What is it?" Kurt asked, frowning a little in confusion and feeling awkward.

"Kurt…"

Blaine, after being introduced formally and taking his first bow, sat at the piano, oblivious. He was smiling a little as he sat.

"Don't say it…" Derek whispered. "Don't say it…"

Logan looked into Kurt's eyes. "You don't have to answer me, or believe me. I just wanted to tell you…"

The music began to start as Blaine began to play.

"…I'm in love with you."

Kurt's eyes widened in shock, mouth falling open slightly.

Derek sank his head into his hand. "...he said it."

"We're all dead if Blaine finds out!" Dwight hissed. Wes turned purple and the twins stood staring, eyes starting out of their heads. But Logan simply smiled a little bit at Kurt who couldn't speak. He released his hands, and just walked away. He took the pill bottle into his hand, pulled two out, and swallowed them as he left the area.

And Blaine started to sing.

_It's a little bit funny_

_This feeling inside me._

_I'm not one of those who can_

_Easily hide._

In the haze of so much confusion, pounding blood through his body, Kurt was awoken from the haze of shock by Blaine's voice. He could hear him singing—and he heard his words. He had told him to listen, just like Logan just did.

Blaine raised his eyes to him, looking as though he only saw him. And Kurt, hardly able to dare, thought he already knew what he was going to say.

_So excuse me forgetting_

_But these things I do._

_See I've forgotten if_

_They're green or they're blue._

_Anyway the thing is..._

_What I really mean..._

_Yours are the sweetest eyes_

_I've ever seen._

Kurt watched and heard, and a flush crept to his face. Blaine noticed. He smiled.

_And you can tell everybody_

_This is your song._

_It maybe quite simple but_

_Now that it's done_

_I hope you don't mind_

_I hope you don't mind_

_That I put down in words_

_How wonderful life is_

_Now you're in the world…_

"Ah, he's getting a little choked up," said David, grinning. The twins made to happily go and bother him, but Wes pulled them back. "Oh no, you're not interrupting this one."

Kurt crept as close to the stage as he dared, watching Blaine. He knew he was supposed to be worrying about what Logan said—he had meant it and he knew it—but his eyes and Blaine's remained locked onto each other, and for that second, he knew he meant it too.

_If I was a sculptor_

_But then again no._

_Or a guy who makes potions in_

_A travelling show._

_I know it's not much but_

_It's the best I can do._

_My gift is my song and_

_This one's for you…_

Carole glanced to the side and caught sight of Kurt almost out at the stage. She saw his expression, and then happily nudged Burt, nodding to Kurt's direction. Burt looked up and saw his son, and saw what looked like the first truly happy, bedazzled look on his face since the wedding.

He had never seen Kurt look so happy. He and the boy on the piano just looked at each other, as though they had forgotten everyone and everything.

Carole looked up at him and smiled, and Burt only smiled faintly back before looking back at Kurt.

His son was happy here.

_And you can tell everybody_

_This is your song._

_It maybe quite simple but_

_Now that it's done_

_I hope you don't mind_

_I hope you don't mind_

_That I put down in words_

_How wonderful life is_

_Now you're in the world…_

The song came to a close, and the entire audience erupted into applause. From where he stood by the side, Shane was smiling broadly, clapping for his brother. He turned to the people next to him. "He's good, mom! He's great!"

"Yes he is…" smiled the tall woman in an elegant white dress. Her hair was thick and black and fell in waves over her shoulder as she looked to her husband. "What did you think, dear?"

But the man with Blaine's stocky build who stood near one of the tables, looking as though wasn't listening. He saw that his son wasn't listening either, seemingly to ignore the applause. He bowed to the crowd, but he kept glancing to the wings. He watched, in silence, as Blaine finished the most cursory bows politeness required, he made a straight line towards the wings.

Kurt was waiting, staring at him and looking as though he immediately wanted to say something—Blaine was sure he'd end up interrupting him—but their hands barely held before Sylvia appeared, beaming. "Well done, Blaine. That was wonderful."

"Oh…thank you, Ms. Medel," Blaine smiled back.

"We should think about adding it…" Sylvia nodded, and then took Kurt's hand. "Come on now, dear. Let's get ready for the big Warbler finale, and find out who wins the contest."

"I…all right…" Kurt looked at Blaine helplessly and just shrugged. Blaine, ever the gentleman, just smiled and motioned for him to go ahead with a single smooth movement. Kurt smiled and followed Medel as Reed came running in, jittery and excited. Shane followed after him, but saw Blaine and stopped, grinning.

"Very nice," Shane grinned.

"And the verdict?"

"You know we love hearing you sing," Shane shrugged. "I mean, dad expression was as nonexistent as if he's had botox done on him within the past few hours, but he liked it, I'm sure. Mom was thrilled, says that you were amazing. Dad says if you come home, he'll get you a gig to sing on the King's Island Christmas Spectacular."

"Oh really. Awful giving of him. Singing what, exactly?"

"_Baby, It's Cold Outside_, I think."

Blaine rolled his eyes. "Figured it'd be a duet. With a girl."

"It's not as bad as it sounds…" said Shane hopefully. "Maybe you can get that Kurt guy to practice with you." He smirked. "That song you just sang _was_ for him, I imagine."

"And I imagine you need to stop trailing after Reed like a puppy," Blaine said, turning a bit red and walking past him. "You're scaring him. He can barely handle himself, let alone all of your…personality."

Shane chased after him, gesturing wildly. "What? Am I not allowed to stare and have some mild degree of fascination? Have you _seen_ him? He looks like someone threw pixie dust onto a Botticelli and he came to life!"

Blaine almost looked disgusted and only now was able to sympathize with all of Windsor when they complained about him. "Wow, Shane, you have truly out-glitter-ed yourself. That's _mild_ to you…?"

* * *

"And now…" smiled Dean Ramsey to the assembled congregation, "to officially close the performances for the Winter Festival, I would like to call upon our school's most decorated and most talented group—the Dalton Academy Warblers."

The audience began to applaud and cheer for the boys as the curtain lifted. The Dalton Warblers, dressed neatly and perfectly, stood prepared to make their final performance of the year. Wes and David looked at each other, then grinned at Blaine, who smiled back. He looked down to Kurt, who nodded with a smile, who then turned to Reed, who gave a nervous laugh. He looked up at the twins above him, and they too grinned. They gave Logan a smile too—but Logan was only able to smile tightly back, eyes cloudy.

Greg had told them backstage, "Sing with everything you've got. It could be your last chance. It ends tonight, guys. Next year, we're all going to be something else."

And for some of them, they really would come away with something else. They were all wildly excited for this performance—Greg had been convinced with vociferous begging to be allowed to perform something as daring as this one in the Winter Fest. It was certainly not the usual Warbler music. And Greg made sure that the choreography matched. After seeing the two leads dance for cheerleading, he made full use of them.

In fine acapella style, the Warblers began the opening melody, from drums to strums. The beat caught the attention of the students, looking up and already grooving along as they began. The boys started to move to the beat.

When the spotlight came on one side and Kurt appeared, they burst into cheers. Kurt strode down to the center, beginning to sing as he danced to the music.

_Everybody's looking for love…oh…_

_Ain't that the reason you're at this club…oh…_

_You ain't gonna find a dance with him. …oh…_

_Got a better solution for you girl. …oh…_

_Just stay with me now—Say the word and well go._

_I'll be your teacher. I'll show you the ropes._

_You'll see a side of love you've never known._

_I can see it going down, going down…_

All the Warblers leapt to action as the chorus came, earning cheers from their schoolmates as they split apart into a mass, moving to the music with such perfect precision that when they moved back a few steps, they were in perfect lines again. When Reed broke ranks to stand next to Kurt, the room burst into applause again.

The two leads began to sing in chorus with the others.

_In my head, I see you all over me._

_In my head, you fulfill my fantasy._

_You'll be screaming no._

_In my head, it's going down._

_In my head, it's going down._

_In my head. Yeah. In my head…_

The people down at the audience were dancing to the music, with most of the boys and their dates dancing with one another across the floor, seeming to not mind the amused looks that the older members and the alums were giving them as they did.

Carole and Burt joined in, dancing happily amidst the couples. Burt caught Kurt's eye, and his son winked at him from the stage, grinning as he sang and moved with great energy. Burt winked back at him and turned his eyes back to Carole, dancing with her and not quite minding that his dancing wasn't up to speed.

_Just leave with me now. Say the word and well go._

_I'll be your teacher. I'll show you the ropes._

_You'll see a side of love you've never known._

_I can see it going down, going down._

_In my head, I see you all over me._

_In my head, you fulfill my fantasy._

_Youll be screaming no._

_In my head, its going down._

_In my head, its going down._

* * *

The night was such a success and so exhausting that most of the Warblers were more than ready to get out of campus almost immediately. After the announcement of the winner, the Windsor boys' spirits were dampened only somewhat; Logan had won the competition for Stuart, which earned the dormitory the bragging rights and extra curfew hours for the next month.

Blaine didn't mind—he had made his move at last, and that was all that counted to him. He had seen the look on Kurt's face and he felt that it was enough. The students left the ballroom with their families, but the boys headed toward the dormitories to retrieve their bags and other items.

"Blaine," said his mother, "You're coming with us, aren't you?"

Shane glanced to his brother. Blaine glanced to his mother, then to the silence his father always gave him only when he had done something to merit disapproval. Almost immediately, he sensed that he must have known who he was singing for.

He turned away, and saw Kurt climbing up towards Windsor, with his family. Burt and Carole were laughing at something that Kurt was explaining to them. After a moment, he gave them hugs—"I'll catch up, I promise. I just have to say goodbye to the others."—and began to climb alone.

Blaine gazed at him, and realized that an entire break without him would be too much. He turned to his parents. "Yes, I'll be going for Christmas."

Before his mother could exclaim in delight, Blaine added, "But right after, I'd like to fly to the East Coast and see my friends. And spend New Year's there."

"Oh…" his mother looked doubtful, then looked at her husband. His father then glowered at him for a moment, but Blaine, who was so used to this, barely even batted an eye.

"You spend too much time with your friends," his father muttered gruffly.

"I know I'm fortunate that I have quite a few so I would like to spend as much time with them as possible."

"There is no "them", is there, Blaine? Have you taken interest in one of them and—"

Blaine quickly hugged his mother and sighed. "I'll catch up. I'll get my things." He glanced at his dad. "Happy Holidays, dad." He turned, heading towards Windsor. Shane, glancing at his parents, said, "I'll go with hm. You guys go ahead. We'll take my car."

He followed after him. Blaine glanced at his brother, who grinned at him. He felt he had someone on his side from his real family, at least. But as he looked up at Windsor, watching Kurt walk into the brightness of the house, he realized that he had family in there as well.

* * *

"What did your mom say?" Kurt asked the moment he found Reed in the second floor hallway. "You killed the song. If that doesn't make an impact…"

Reed just laughed, carrying barely anything but a large pillow and a small bag. "She's settled on "maybe" you'll do fine. I feel like standing up to her again. It felt a little bad, but…I think it did make her listen a little bit."

Dwight, carrying a massive rucksack full of "weapons" and ingredients, came down the hall. He said to Reed, "Shane's waiting for you downstairs, trying to get people to get you to talk to him. I swear to Castiel, he's morphosed into some kind of sex demon and it's not boding well for the team when it's working even for me."

Reed turned scarlet. "Dwight! Stop saying things like that!"

"Just saying…" Dwight shrugged. He looked at Kurt. "Have you seen the twins yet? They wanted to talk to you about visiting."

"Uh…"

"Reed!" came David's yell from downstairs. "Can you come down here and say good night to Shane before we toss him out the dormitory?"

"Oh for goodnessake…" still red in the face, Reed evaded Kurt's smirk and headed for the staircase. Dwight gave Kurt a wave. "If you agree to visit, you all are welcome to come to my family's theme park."

"You have your own theme park?"

"Alice!" the twins popped out of their room and promptly tackled him to the ground. "We're going to miss you so much!"

"It'd be so lonely without our adventures," Evan said wistfully, not quite allowing Kurt to get up off the floor yet.

"Who would we nerf? Who would we shoot at? Who would make us magic chocolate chip cookies?" Ethan said dramatically.

"Each _other_ maybe…" Kurt grunted, pushing the twins off him. "What was Dwight saying about visiting?"

Evan sat up, looking excited. "Well every year, we gather at someone's house after Christmas. And then spend the New Year there."

"We're hosting this year. And seeing as you're such a Broadway whore…" Ethan jumped up and helped his brother up. "We would like to invite you to join us in Manhattan."

Kurt's jaw dropped. "_What_?"

"Call it a preview-of-coming-attraction," Evan said, grinning. "For when we go to Nationals, of course."

"We'll tour you!"

"And feed you!"

"And toss you into a nice spa!"

"Did I mention that Reed is your best guide to fifth avenue?"

"Now, don't worry about transport and accommodations," said Evan when he saw Kurt about to protest. He grinned, leaning on his twin. "You don't seem to realize who we are."

"And you don't seem to realize what kind of leverage we have." Ethan nodded. "We'll take care of your air transport and lodgings. Private jet and suite sound good to you?"

This definitely had to be a massive Christmas present. "I'm definitely asking my parents about it. And even if they say no, I'll likely smuggle away into a suitcase or something."

The twins happily tackled him again. Wes, used to this spectacle, passed by the heap of bodies on the floor and said, "Kurt? Blaine's looking for you in his room."

Kurt got up quickly, turning red. "What for?"

"I don't know… I think he wants to say goodbye?"

Kurt's stomach did a flip. He wouldn't be able to see Blaine for a while. A nice goodbye would be appropriate. He glanced at them and then headed off to Blaine's room. He didn't see the twin smirks given to him by the Tweedles and Wes.

The past weeks had been a dance around the subject, but he felt that tonight, they'd managed to make some kind of progress. Kurt stood outside Blaine's room, took a deep breath, and stepped in. Inside still had the Christmas decorations, and Blaine's things were neatly packed into trunks waiting by the door. The prefect looked up as soon as he stepped in. Blaine was looking at something and was still wearing reading glasses. It was unbelievably becoming.

"Hi," Kurt said with a smile as he came in, closing the door. He didn't hear someone jam the handles outside.

"Hey," Blaine smiled as he motioned for him to come in. "What did you want to see me for?"

Kurt blinked. "What? Wes told me _you_ wanted to see _me_ for something."

They fell silent, and then both turned to the door. In two seconds, they had strode up to it, and realized that it was locked. The crowd outside stood snickering.

"Very funny guys," Blaine grumbled.

Kurt glowered. "We can hear you snickering you kno—"

Music started playing into the room. Blaine looked around and saw that his stereo had switched on via remote. And it was playing a familiar Christmas song.

_Baby, It's Cold Outside._

Blaine laughed as he recognized it. Kurt, who had been trying to pull open the door with force, let go at least. He too sighed and looked up at the sound of the music. "Oh…a personal favorite…" he smiled a little.

"Is it?" Blaine smiled. "Well in that case…" He stepped down to the common area and made a bow. "Kurt? May I have this dance?"

"What?" Kurt laughed.

Blaine gestured expectantly. Kurt just shook his head with a smirk, but walked up to him. Clearing his throat, he gave his hands to Blaine. "I've seen how you dance onstage. You get as overexcited as your brother. Don't step on my feet?"

"No promises," Blaine grinned as he swept him around to dance. As the music played, they also found themselves singing to it.

_I really can't stay - But baby it's cold outside_

_I've got to go away - But baby it's cold outside_

_This evening has been - Been hoping that you'd drop in_

_So very nice - I'll hold your hands, they're just like ice_

_My mother will start to worry - Beautiful, what's your hurry?_

_My father will be pacing the floor - Listen to the fireplace roar_

_So really I'd better scurry - Beautiful, please don't hurry_

_Well maybe just a half a drink more - Put some records on while I pour_

_The neighbors might think - Baby, it's bad out there_

_Say, what's in this drink? - No cabs to be had out there_

_I wish I knew how - Your eyes are like starlight_

_To break the spell - I'll take your hat, your hair looks swell_

_I ought to say no, no, no, sir - Mind if I move in closer?_

_At least I'm gonna say that I tried - What's the sense in hurting my pride?_

_I really can't stay - Baby don't hold out_

_Ahhh, but it's cold outside_

_I've got to go home - But, baby, you'll freeze out there_

_Say, lend me your coat - It's up to your knees out there_

_You've really been grand - I thrill when you touch my hand_

_But don't you see - How can you do this thing to me?_

_There's bound to be talk tomorrow - Think of my life long sorrow_

_At least there will be plenty implied - If you caught pneumonia and died_

_I really can't stay - Get over that hold out_

_Ohhh, baby it's cold outside…_

They were standing rather close as the song ended. Smiling, they were looking at each other, and both laughed awkwardly at the situation. But their hands remained together. Blaine smiled at him, and Kurt flushed only slightly.

From the doorway, there was an explosion of cheering and catcalls, making them both jump. The boys had removed whatever they used to jam the door and had been watching them, now applauding and cheering at the top of their lungs.

The two looked at each other—and immediately ran for the door.

The entire group bolted like mad, the hallways in chaos, running down the hall and away from their furious reach as Kurt and Blaine lunged for them. Kurt was panting when he got to the door. He glowered at them. "Those guys are just…"

"They grow on you, though," Blaine grinned.

Kurt smiled back, but felt his phone vibrate.

_You done packing? – Dad_

"I have to go," Kurt sighed. "For real this time." He looked at Blaine. "See you soon?"

The prefect nodded and smiled. "Of course."

The two of them exchanged one last, long look before Kurt finally moved away from the door. Blaine suddenly grabbed his hand back. "Wait."

Heart pounding, Kurt turned back to him. "What?" Blaine stepped forward and stood close to him, as close as they had been when they danced. His eyes looked serious in spite of the slight twinkle of amusement in them.

"Hey...look." pointed upward, over the door.

"What?" Kurt looked up. And the sight of one single ornament caused him to flush harder than he had ever done in his life. "...mistletoe."

Blaine was holding his hands, standing very close and careful. He seemed to be waiting for permission as he looked at him. After the events at McKinley, he would be the last person to take advantage of this kind of situation.

Kurt clutched onto Blaine's hands, looking at him in silent response. They always did this; simply looking and never speaking. But as he squeezed Blaine's hands lightly, he was sure that he had sent his permission across.

And very carefully, Blaine leaned close—so close that their breaths ghosted each other's cool skin, lashes on the verge of touching, tremulous with anticipation—and gave Kurt a gentle kiss on the corner of the lips. Kurt, flushed from head to toe, was only barely able to return it as lightly.

It was the briefest touch, but it was the most gratuitous thing they had ever had. It put them both in that position where they could have just that moment—more than what they were, less than where they had to get to.

But it was enough for now.

"See you." Blaine whispered.

"See you." Kurt agreed, smiling.

* * *

**_End of First 13_**

_On the next episode: Wonderland gets a lot brighter. Christmas is over, but the fireworks are forthcoming. One gargantuan New Years celebration is guaranteeing that no Dalton boy hits the New Year without some sort of condition, be it hangover, heartbreak, concussion or confusion. The Twins party at Manhattan will make sure no one goes to bed._


	14. Bad Things

_Hi, I'm C Coulter, your writer for this fanfic._

_First: If you are wondering why I delayed, the reason is in a statement I posted in cpcoulter in livejournal (I usually post advisories there, and also in my shiny new tumblr (cpcoulter) where some original works may also appear). It in itself is not a very good excuse, and I still apologize. I receive messages saying that they were hoping for an update very quickly, and I do feel I should be able to deliver._

_Second: While the episode preview last time mentioned a party, the party itself does not happen right now. The New York will likely span three eps (it becomes obvious what the likely titles will be judging from today's title), and they will all fly back home as quite frankly I do prefer they spread mayhem in Dalton and not in New York as I do not want them risking New York police force._

_I am truly grateful for each and every one who reads my work and have put up with me and my idosyncracies as of late. Back in the first chapter, I mentioned that I was not even hoping for reviews-I just wanted to put the fic out there. Your support, your words and encouragement mean worlds to me. . In an attempt to appeal to your forgiveness, I now deliver you a load of Klaine. __So I hope you will enjoy this episode_

_(**I do not own Glee**. It will not have become as successful if I did.)_

* * *

**Dalton**

**Episode 14: Bad Things...**

* * *

Kurt was confused. He had no idea how a single song practice back in his room got them to where they were, but he had the suspicion that what was being done to him was intentionally made so he would not want it to stop.

The body beneath him was warm and firm, those heated lips trailing over his neck, up his jaw, before just teasingly brushing his. So much warm breath, soft murmurs in his ear, and all the touches that set fire to every inch of his skin that connected to the other's.

So unbelievably close that their eyelashes nearly touched as the warm strong hands brought him closer. Kurt was straddling his lap, delirious in the sensation and all inhibitions were deteriorating, leaving so much room for sheer _want_.

"Wait…" he breathed as other concerns pressed, unwelcome, into his mind.

"Shh…" that talented mouth was distracting him again. And when those hands pulled at him, grinding their hips together, Kurt groaned.

"We—have to get to—" rational thought was becoming impossible at the playful nip at his neck. "—the Hall… Harvey and Medel…"

"Later…" there was the sound of fabric being pulled—and then a hand was wandering up his chest, exploring. The voice was almost desperate. "We have time…"

"…right…" Kurt didn't have the strength anymore. Why was he even protesting? A fire hot weight was pressing against him. He breathed in deep, hands bringing the other's face to his again, feverish foreheads pressed and lips brushing with each breath.

Kurt gazed through his lashes to see heat in the other's eyes.

"Kurt…" he breathed. Kurt all but grabbed at him and kissed him deeply, as though he wanted to drink him in. In that heady atmosphere of heat and scent and touch, Kurt let himself be taken over, pushed down onto the couch, his lover leaning over him.

* * *

"Kurt? Are you all right?"

From where he was sitting at the food court table, Kurt raised heavy-lidded eyes with dark circles. Mercedes was looking down at him in concern. It had _not_ been a good morning after that dream. It was one thing to have that kind of a dream—that had been jarring enough—but he had the suspicion that he actually had no idea who the other person even _was_.

Mercedes saw his expression and gave him an incredulous look, handing him the latte cup. "What's the matter?"

"My life is getting complicated," Kurt grumbled, gratefully taking the cup.

"Those boys giving you a hard time?" she raised an eyebrow as she sat down.

"No, they're…it's my…um…guys."

Tina looked up from where she was texting Mike and grinned. "That problem you were talking about before Christmas?" She immediately put the phone down and gave him her full attention. Kurt rolled his eyes.

"I still don't understand how you just had a _harmless_ kiss," Mercedes snorted, shaking her head. "If you like the guy, no kiss is actually harmless."

"Trust me, Mercedes, compared to what the Cheerios get on a daily basis, it's pretty harmless. And now I've been…" Kurt gestured in the air, looking for the right word, "…poisoned. Hormone poisoned. I haven't been this worked up over a kiss since—"" he stopped himself, remembering that particular locker room moment, waved it away quickly and said, "—since…_Modern Family_. This morning I forgot to put hairspray in my bag—I was that distracted."

"And now you want more?" Mercedes said, still smirking.

"God yes," Kurt dropped his forehead down onto the table. "And at the same time no. I felt like I was having cardiac arrest while it was happening. I had no idea human contact can cause such a substantial IQ drop in seconds."

"Can I just say that I like this flustered side of you?" Tina laughed. She received a trademarked bitch stare from Kurt, but this just made her laugh even harder.

Kurt was staring into empty space, mumbling, "Logan told me he was in love with me…"

Mercedes choked on her drink. "_What_? We were talking about Blaine—who's Logan?"

"I think he means that tall guy—remember when we crashed their party when we thought Karofsky was going to kill him? The one with the green eyes and looks like, uh, a model or something."

"_Him_?" Mercedes didn't look particularly pleased as she remembered the tall one who looked at Kurt with eyes that smoldered. "Yeah, he's pretty hot but…" she glanced at Kurt with a sparkle in her eye. "…he is _so_ not the one you're thinking of right now."

Kurt sighed deeply. "What did Blaine _do_ to me…?" He put his head in his arms on the table. The girls looked at each other and grinned.

* * *

_I'm Kurt._

_I recently transferred to Dalton Academy. _

_Holidays are in, and I'm back in Lima with my friends, and I can't tell you how happy I am._

_I think about the Dalton boys sometimes. _

…_all right, all the time._

…_but just a particular one._

* * *

"Hi, Mr. Hummel!" Mercedes said brightly as they arrived at the front door. "We've brought Kurt back! Barely alive, but there."

The three finished their shopping that resulted from the post-Christmas sales, talking about everything that had happened over the time Kurt had not been around. The girls had also wanted to hear about Kurt's time in Dalton, but whenever Kurt would describe some of the things that went on, they always laughed. They had probably thought he wasn't serious. It had gotten late, and they decided to go over to the new Hudson-Hummel home.

Burt looked up from the living room. "Back so soon?"

Mercedes grinned, "Yes, he's already given us all our Christmas gifts! He can get off our custody."

Kurt shot her a look and then rolled his eyes. "Hey dad." He gave his father a hug and saw Finn also on the couch, watching a rerun of a football game. "Finn, I told you, you can't wear that sweater in the house. I'd have to charge you with a serious crime against clothing. Or taste in general."

Finn, who rather liked his heinous sweater—it really _was_ cozy and in spite of Kurt's protests, he just liked it—grumbled as he said, "It's a statement…"

"Yes, it says "shoot me"," Kurt remarked as he shed his coat.

"Welcome back!" said Carole brightly. And she was wearing something similar to Finn's sweater, only slightly less hideous. Kurt's face fell at the sight of it. Tina just laughed, "It's still technically the holidays, Kurt. It's part of the joy."

"Yes, joy. So much joy at the twenty-sixth. Hi…" Kurt just gave Carole a hug and a smile. "There's hope for you yet. But Finn, I've given up on."

"Be nice, now…" Burt warned from the couch with only an affectionate glance back at his son. "You're not going to be here that long, after all."

Mercedes blinked, "Yeah, Kurt, I thought you said your Dalton friends invited you to go on vacation with them." She looked at Carole. "They wanted him to come to New York with them—did he tell you?"

"He told us all about it, and we said it was all right as long as it was after Christmas…" Carole blinked at her stepson. "Did you change your mind about going?"

"No, it looks like _they_ did," Kurt shrugged a little. "I sent them a text saying that you let me go, but they've yet to answer it. The only messages I've gotten for them are the customary "Merry Christmas" greetings." He couldn't help but sound slightly disappointed. He did want to see New York.

…and he had heard nothing from Blaine.

A package had arrived that morning, addressed to him—it had come straight from Paris. When he took it out, it was a long, luxurious winter coat in blinding white mink, with a note wishing him Merry Christmas. It had been from Logan. He was the only Dalton boy he'd heard from post-Christmas. Carole had gotten terribly excited when she saw it and started asking questions.

As his new stepmother handed out hot cocoa to everyone—Tina shooting Finn a disturbed look as she saw the amount of marshmallows the quarterback subsequently heaped in—Kurt stared into the brown liquid and wondered where everyone was.

Happy as he was back to be with Lima—he had spent every waking second with his family and with New Directions—he couldn't help but miss them. It was so quiet back at home, especially now that he and Finn didn't squabble quite as much anymore.

…and after the mistletoe kiss, he had to admit that he wish he'd heard something, _anything_ from Blaine. Just to see where they stood now, of course. He was dreadfully in love with Blaine, and Blaine clearly liked him right back. And he just wanted some actual confirmation of what they _were_. He didn't want to think that Blaine simply kissed him because he was under mistletoe.

But Mercedes had said, "He didn't _have_ to kiss you then. He could've let you go. But he made you stop, right? Means he likes you enough to want to kiss you. Good sign."

"I sure hope you're right, Mercedes," Kurt sighed as he saw his friends to the door later on. Tina looked sympathetic. "You'll hear from them. Him. It'll be fine. Besides, you'll see them all again at school!"

Mercedes gave him a big, warm hug, which Kurt returned with a smile. "Hey, if you _do_ get to New York, you better tell us. And we want documentation. We want photos. Lots of them."

"If I do, you'll be the first to know," Kurt agreed. "My incoherent texts will inform you."

After they had gone, Kurt headed upstairs to his room. It wasn't as large as the basement, but it was his own space and he had already begun decorating it heavily. It was now white and dark blue, splashes of colorful patterns here and there, with plenty of pillows lying around. He was inspired by Jean Paul Gaultier's minimalist design.

He looked at his phone. No messages. A glance at his laptop revealed an email. He clicked it open.

_Hi Kurt!_

_Merry After-Christmas! Where are you right now? Let me know soon, can't wait to see you again!_

_Reed_

_PS. What was that cream you told me about that's good for getting rid of scars? I totally tripped into the fireplace—it was __**not lit**__, thankfully—when I took down my Christmas stocking._

Kurt smiled and gave him a response that both greeted him a Merry Christmas and scolded him for not being more careful before adding the name of the skin cream. He preferred to have his friend intact upon their next meeting. He also told him that he was at home, about the trials of the Hudson fashion sense, and how he missed the boys of Windsor.

Then he lay down on his bed and stared, thinking about his last dream. Hanging at his closet door was the mink coat from Logan. He felt a guilty twinge. He still couldn't, for the life of him, remember who it had been that he was straddling in a heat-loaded makeout session in a Dalton room. He wasn't sure he ever knew to begin with.

_Even my subconscious is getting more than I am_… was Kurt's last thoughts before he fell asleep.

* * *

His subconscious granted him a truce. He didn't dream at all that night. It was as though he simply blacked out. But it was frigid in his room in the morning, and he buried further into the comforter he'd brought home from Dalton.

Odd. It was really warm under there.

He opened his eyes and gasped when he saw another body next to him. He popped his head out of the covers, wide eyed, and found one smiling Tweedle twin lying there, wearing pajamas. "Good morning, Alice!" Evan said brightly.

Kurt stared, aghast and scandalized, mouth open but no sound coming out. Evan continued to beam happily, hair trussed up with sleep. Kurt jerked backwards only to hit another warm body. He turned around to find the other twin, in the mirror image of his brother. "Rise and shine!" Ethan said happily.

"What are you both doing in my _bed_?" Kurt burst out. No matter how weird and hormonal his dreams had become, none of them had involved waking up in bed with the twins.

"We brought coffee." They said this as though it explained everything. Kurt looked around his room and found that, yes, dozens of coffee cups were everywhere. And that wasn't all. On the carpet on the floor, snoring on his many pillows, slept Wes and David, who looked so asleep, an earthquake wouldn't have woken them.

Kurt stared at them. "What the—"

"Get used to it, this'll happen after every major party," Evan said kindly, holding out a coffee cup to him.

"How did you get in here?" Kurt demanded, but nevertheless taking the cup. Ethan just shrugged, gesturing, "Took a ride from the airport, headed here. Climbed tree. Window was open."

"…I'm on the second floor."

"And…this is a problem, why?"

"And I locked my windows!"

"Your window's lame—I opened it on the first try," Evan smirked as he sat up. He looked around. "Interesting room, by the way…"

"Nice interior decorating."

"And the interesting size…"

"…approximately the size of Reed's Windsor closet."

Kurt's caffeine-deprived glower checked the Twins. Evan threw pillows down onto the pair on the floor. "Up! Up! Time to go! Or we'll be late for a very important date!"

"Late how?" grumbled Wes from under a pillow, sounding annoyed. "It's _your_ plane."

"Time waits for no one," said Ethan sensibly, getting up. "Neither do our attention spans. Let's go! Alice, get dressed!" he picked up the mink coat and tossed it to Kurt.

Kurt caught it and asked, "How long have you guys been in here?"

"Two, three hours?" David mumbled, yawning as he sat up. "You sleep like the dead, did you know? This is exactly why we managed to kidnap you, that first day."

Kurt sank his head into his hands. "And you slept here…?"

"Couldn't help it, Tweedles flew in late from San Diego…" Wes explained, yawning hugely. "I came in from Hawaii."

"I've been up all night with Katherine," David explained, rubbing his eyes. Wes nodded, "Anyway, I met the Tweedles in Florida—to pick up Dwight…"

"Where _is_ Dwight?" Kurt asked blearily.

As if in response, a powerful honk sounded outside. Kurt jumped, but David stuck his head out the window. "Yep. He got the car. Let's get going!"

"Wait—wait—!" Kurt stopped the twins, who were dragging him off. "I haven't even packed!"

"You don't need to pack," said the twins sensibly. "Everything you need'll be there."

"Clothes? Skin care products? Toiletries? Underwear, maybe? Ring any bells to you?"

"You're making this more complicated than it is, Alice—if we couldn't already give you those things, Reed could," Evan said patiently.

"Just—just let go for a second!" Kurt flicked them both off, and they did oblige. Still rumpled and a bit in shock, Kurt tried to get his thoughts together. "You're taking me to New York—_now_? I hadn't heard from any of you about it at all!"

"I'm sorry, did you make other plans?" Ethan asked, looking worried.

"Because if your plans involve other people, we can take them too," Evan said helpfully.

Kurt dropped his face into his hand. And then Finn burst into the room. "Hey Kurt, outside, there's—" He stopped abruptly when he saw all the sleepwear-clad young men within the room, half of them getting dressed. It was not the best sight to greet him if he was to walk into his brother's bedroom. "Whoa." He looked at them all in confusion and alarm. "Uh…Kurt, you mind catching me up a bit…?"

"Breaking and entering, apparently," Kurt grumbled. "Also, that neat little maneuver humans do before they come into a room, is called knocking." He looked to the others. "Come on, guys, downstairs. Out, please? Let me manage to look human again, and I'll join you."

"Make it quick!" said Evan hopefully, clearly very excited.

"Yes, jet's waiting!" added Ethan.

"Wait—jet?" Finn looked back and forth to them and to Kurt. "Jet? You're going to New York?"

"Apparently," Kurt sighed, ushering Wes and David out, David scooping up one of the coffee cups as he left. "I'll be out in a minute, Finn. Please tell dad and Carole? Are they awake?"

"Uh, yeah…"

"Hey, Mr. H!" exclaimed the twins happily, voices echoing downstairs. Kurt leaned out the door and yelled, "It's all right dad! They're harmless and they've had all their shots—just don't let them near anything flammable! I'll be down in a minute!" He looked at his stepbrother. "You too, Finn."

"Kurt?"

"Yes?" Kurt asked with great patience evident in his voice.

Finn smiled and picked up one of the nearby coffee cups. "Have fun in New York, all right?"

Kurt grinned. "Thanks, I plan to."

* * *

It took Kurt only a few moments to get everything he presumably needed, packed into an overnight bag. By the time he came downstairs, the boys were dressed and Wes was engaged in a debate with his father about _The Longest Yard_.

"All I'm saying is, it's unrealistic!" Burt said, almost laughing. "Half the guys there were wrestlers!"

"But that doesn't mean they can't play decent football," Wes was saying as he looked up and spotted Kurt. "Ah! Finally! Let's get going before the twins freak out your mom."

The twins were happily regaling Carole with the story of how the Warblers were first introduced to Kurt's voice. Carole looked amused, but asked Kurt, "Is there a particular reason they call you "Alice"?"

Kurt just rolled his eyes. "They have weird nicknames for everyone. For some reason, they called me Alice. Because I went into…WarblerLand." But he smiled and gave her a big hug, and then his dad. "I'm going now. I'll be back right after New Year's."

"You boys look after Kurt, then," Burt said gruffly to the batch of young men heading out the door. Outside, Dwight was honking the horn for them to get going. "Don't worry, we will, Mr. Hummel," David assured him.

"That kid Blaine going to be there?"

Kurt froze to his fingertips, looking at his dad. Burt had his arms crossed over his chest. Wes and David looked at each other. "Yes, sir, he will be," said Wes.

"Well, tell him that nothing better happen to my son while under his watch."

Kurt had never realized that so much secondhand embarrassment could be gleaned from a single sentence. And if he thought that had been bad enough—

Burt suddenly said, "What about the Logan kid? Going to be there too?"

This time all the Windsors looked up. Kurt was looking at his dad, begging him to stop talking with wide eyes. Evan said, "No, I don't believe he'll be joining us…"

"We doubt it…" said Ethan. "We haven't heard a word. Why do you mention, sir?"

Burt nodded to what was around Kurt's shoulders. "He sent that coat, didn't he? Figured he'd come along too."

Wes looked like he wanted to set fire to the mink, with the way he looked at it. Kurt stepped away from him, holding onto his coat protectively. He rather liked this coat.

David gave Burt a wonderfully well-made polite smile and said, "Well, don't worry, Mr. Hummel. We'll look after him."

"See you, Dad," Kurt waved as he exited the door, Burt calling a "take care of yourself" after him. Kurt, hitching his bag strap up over his shoulders, followed the others out and into the driveway where Dwight was waiting inside the car, which had actually flown with him. Kurt, who had his fair share of car knowledge, took one look at what he was in and had to smirk.

"A 1967 Chevy Impala. Why am I not surprised…?"

Dwight's ears turned red. "I like them vintage!"

"Sure, you bought it because it was vintage…" Wes rolled his eyes as he got in.

"I didn't _buy_ it—my uncle gave it to me for Christmas." He added in a mutter, "At my request, maybe…but still…"

It was a tight fit: Wes, the twins and Kurt sat at the back, David called shotgun before he and Wes even stepped out of the house. Dwight adjusted and looked at the rearview mirror and said, "I don't think I need to tell you, if any of you so much as damage an inch of the leather, I will literally set you on righteous fire. And I'm good at setting things on fire!"

"To the airfield now, please?" Evan said patiently.

"Before we set _you_ on righteous fire?" Ethan added with a smile.

"Fine, but I'm the pilot of this clown car—I'll be boss until we get to the airfield." He flipped a switch, and music started to blast from the speakers. Everybody else in the car groaned as, predictably, "Highway to Hell" started playing.

Dwight, clearly in the zone again, ignored them all and began driving.

* * *

When they got to the private airfield—"Why do you have even have a private airfield?" Kurt demanded—the first thing they did was get out right next to a large white Boeing sitting on the runway. It looked brand new, everything gleaming.

The twins looked deeply excited. "Do you like it?" Evan asked, giddy, jumping up and down as he got out of the car. "It's our Christmas present for the next three years!"

"Including the pilot and the gas!" Ethan said happily, looking up at it.

"Who _wouldn't_ like it…?" Dwight said, grumbling.

Stunned as Kurt was, he walked with them to the ramp. Before he could truly take it all in, the door on top of the stairs opened and Reed stepped out, wrapped warmly in fur and boots. He grinned brightly, pink-cheeked in the wind, and he waved wildly at them. "Hey, guys! You brought Kurt!"

"Reed!" Kurt laughed, glad to see him.

Reed happily jogged down the stairs, and proceeded to trip over his own bootlaces. He tumbled down quite a few steps before Kurt managed to reach him and stop him. "Oh, _Reed_…" he half scolded, half worried.

"Sorry, sorry—" Reed gasped, looking shaken. "Got a bit carried away." Be he hugged Kurt. "Glad to see you! I got your mail! When I found out you were at home, I told the Twins to go get you." He beamed.

"Oh, they got me," Kurt smiled wryly at him. "Where's—"

A pair of bodies came out of the plane. Kurt looked up and his heart rate skipped up a tad faster than normal. Blaine was on top of the stairs, smiling at him, with Shane next to him, grinning.

"Get in, losers, we're going shopping!" Shane yelled. The Twins laughed. Blaine rolled his eyes and gave him a light shove before he came down.

"Merry After-Christmas," he smiled, giving Kurt a tight hug. Kurt sighed and happily returned it. It was good to know that things weren't awkward, at the very least. It was a good sign. "I missed you."

"Merry After-Christmas," Kurt answered. "And I did miss you too." When Blaine released the embrace, he remained holding his hand. Wes finally complained, loudly, "Can we please have this chick flick moment _inside_ the plane? May we all get out of the cold now? Geez, it doesn't take _that_ long to fly to New York from here, let's get to it!"

Blaine cleared his throat, looking a bit embarrassed. But he led Kurt up the plane, the others following. Kurt got into the plane, and his jaw dropped. The inside of the plane looked more like a very large den. It even had wood paneling, and the seats were beautifully upholstered. If he wasn't mistaken, that was a _Jacuzzi_ sitting near massive television screen that presided over several gaming consoles. The place was still decorated according to the holidays, including a pile of brightly-wrapped presents in the middle of the area.

Wes and the Twins made a beeline for the gaming system, with Wes popping in a fighting game, while David plopped down on one of the chairs and started to send a few texts before the plane officially got going. Dwight threw himself onto the couch pillows and passed out with frightening speed. When Kurt gave him the odd look, Blaine explained, "He's afraid of flying. He has to sleep it off."

Shane and Reed came in, with Reed keeping a healthy distance from Blaine's excitable brother by sitting next to Kurt. Shane was completely unsympathetic to Blaine's glares—he sat between Kurt and Blaine and gave his brother an innocent smile.

Kurt now looked at his friend. "I thought I wouldn't get to go—I didn't hear from any of you all that much before and after Christmas."

"Christmas is family time—we don't mess with each other," Reed said. "Of course, there's also the chance one of us is in a different time zone, so calling is awkward. But midnight of the twenty-fifth, I already had the Twins ringing me. Asked me to ask you where you were so they could get you."

"And I had a communications blackout," said Blaine, shaking his head.

"Had to," Shane nodded. "Blaine was home for Christmas for once—and I can tell you, it was so tense up in California that if any of you had called, the room would have blown up."

"So much forced _cheer_…" Blaine sighed. Kurt reached right over Shane and took Blaine's hand, giving it a sympathetic squeeze. This surprised both brothers. Shane sighed at them smiling at each other and finally got off the couch to let them sit together.

When they were flying at last, Dwight might as well have been dead, for all they knew; he didn't stir once even as Wes started complaining that the twins may be cheating as they kept beating him in the game. David was next to him, tying to help strategize, but Evan and Ethan were incorrigible—they didn't even have to talk to each other.

"Ow!" Reed, standing with the presents, was now glaring at a brightly wrapped box he was holding onto, clearly getting a paper cut. He looked up at Kurt and smiled. "Hey Kurt! Here!" He held out the package. "Your present!"

Kurt brightened up and said, "Really? Great, I brought yours." He dug into his bag and exchanged gifts with him. Kurt took his package and ripped it open. It was a Kate Spade tote—crammed with Shu Uemura. His eyes widened to their fullest extent. "_Reed!_ What—"

"You got me sheet music and new paintbrushes!" Reed said happily hugging the present. "This perfect for my new concept! I can't wait to try them out and finish my last painting!" He glomped Kurt and happily ran off to get his art things from another part of the plane. He nearly tripped on David, but he was clearly very happy.

Kurt was speechless—he looked down at his present and back at his friend, who he didn't even have the chance to thank yet. Wes saw his shock and grinned. "Aren't you going to open the rest?"

"The rest…?"

"Those are all yours," said the twins without taking their eyes off the game. "We've already exchanged presents."

Kurt stared at the gleaming pile. "You cannot be serious."

"Please—those are definitely not _our_ presents," David snorted. "We wouldn't know what to do with half of them."

"Why?"

"See for yourself."

An hour later, Kurt was surrounded by wrapping paper, opening what had to be his third package from Reed. It was a Prada bag that he was sure could literally not be found anywhere. Inside were two ounces of Clé de Peau and he nearly had a heart attack. Around Kurt sat the rest of the loot—stuff that, collectively, downright blew his mind. On top of the new Alienware laptop David had given him, an Alexander McQueen trench from the Twins was draped. The Louboutins from Wes had tumbled down on the carpet, half hidden by a box of Chanel scarves from Dwight. The shoes were the third pair of shoes he received—the Jimmy Choos and the Fendi suede boots were the first two.

There were clearly multiple gifts from one person. He even got one from Shane—"It's nice to meet you and I look forward to your forthcoming threats of bodily harm," the note inside the Dior Homme jacket said—but he didn't get anything from Blaine.

Blaine said, "It would appear that none of them knew what things to give you—other than David, but he usually gives out tech—so they had to turn to Reed for ideas." He turned a little red. "My…present isn't tangible. But I can tell you that it's waiting for you in New York."

Kurt raised his eyebrows in surprise, but was incredibly pleased. "Interesting."

"I sure hope so," Blaine smiled.

"This is too much," Kurt protested to the others now, mainly out of shock, secondly out of formality, but not without that small part of him that was screaming madly at the sight of all the loot. "Seriously, Reed? You're giving me _this?_" He waved the Clé de Peau.

"Kurt, when my mom gets presents, she _gets presents_," Reed said patiently, already happily trying out his paintbrushes. He frowned as a giant drop of green splashed into his coat by accident. He sighed. "Delivery men keep asking if she's stocking a department store when all the gifts come. And she has a lot of them already. So she sends them to me. You are basically a godsend, I can just give the stuff to you—consider yourself my couture disposal chute. Blaine was getting tired of them all too."

"There had come a point when I had nearly an entire fashion show's worth of clothes in my room," Blaine recalled. "The show must've been a _disaster_ for Reed's mom if she sent them all away."

Wes was wearing a Roosterteeth beanie that Kurt had given him—he had not taken it off the moment he unwrapped it. "We almost there yet?" he asked as he continued to play.

The twins, who were devouring massive amounts of beans out of the tub of Every Flavor Beans that Kurt had given them, simultaneously pointed to the intercom. As if on cue, the pilot's voice sounded.

"_Attention, we will be landing at our private airfield at New York momentarily…"_

"That timing…is just creepy," Shane blinked. "And you have yet _another_ private airfield in New York?"

David was scribbling something on the beautifully covered moleskine notebook that Kurt had given him as his present. "Alright guys. I just got through to Sherry-Lehmann. We're good for New Years. We'll probably have enough to keep going until daylight."

Kurt blinked, not sure. "That kind of sounds familiar…who's Sherry Lehmann?"

The Twins looked at each other with a Cheshire smile and then looked at Kurt. "Oh. They're delivery people."

Reed rolled his eyes and shook his head from behind the canvas, grumbling about "bad influences". Blaine just patted Kurt's arm. "I…think you should stick with me."

"Yes, please…" Kurt shot the twins a suspicious glance, but his fingers twined around Blaine's. Shane, reading a sports mag, glanced at his brother and smirked at the obvious look of happiness that he never had all Christmas.

* * *

Dwight came to life the moment the plane came to a full stop on the runway. "Oh, we're here already?" he blinked blearily.

"Yup!" said Wes, getting up from his seat. "Didn't take that long, did it?" He grinned when he saw Kurt with his nose pressed to the glass window. "Hey Blaine? Hang onto him before he has an aneurism—we're not even in the city yet."

Blaine laughed and led Kurt away from the window. "There's a better view outside. Come on, let's go. The crew will put your things in the car."

"Right…" Kurt looked flushed and animated and let Blaine lead him to the exit. He was actually in New York. He had come to New York, and whole months earlier than if he had to wait until Nationals! It was beyond expectations. Outside into the crisp air, it was a bright morning. Below the stairs waited a long black limousine, with the chauffeur waiting with the door open. He nodded to the twins. "Mr. Evan, Mr. Ethan," he nodded.

"Hello, Simon!" the twins said cheerily. "Everything's ready back at the pad?"

"Yes, sir, the condominium at Park Avenue has been prepared for all of your friends. I've also just confirmed that you will have lunch waiting for you."

"Food!" Wes exclaimed in relief. "Yes!"

Going down the steps with Blaine, he stared at the limousine. He grinned and pulled out his phone.

_Made it to New York with the boys. Just got off the private jet. Limo to take us to Upper East Side. I feel like a star already!_

And then sent it to the members of the Glee Club. Blaine, who looked over his shoulder, laughed a little, almost to his ear. To have him—and his lips—so close to his skin again nearly paralyzed Kurt as he turned slightly to look at him. Their eyes met for only a quick moment before Wes and David came up behind them and shoved them happily forward.

"Now, now—be patient, we're in public," David smirked.

"Into the car—let's head to the condo and we promise the twins will give you a room," Was said in the tone teachers took when explaining to kindergarteners.

"You two need to _be quiet now, please_…" Blaine grimaced at them. "You're being completely unhelpful."

"We were helpful?" Wes blinked in mock surprise. "When, pray tell?"

As Kurt laughingly entered the car, fielding the excited replies of his McKinley friends—and the indignant responses of one Rachel Berry—Shane helped Reed take his unfinished painting down the steps. He grinned at him as he took the canvas. "I hear you paint like a master. What are you painting?"

Flustered and turning a bit red, Reed ducked his head. "Just…a last minute thing." He immediately hurried ahead, not turning back to look at him. Shane, far from being deterred by his obvious reluctance to be near him all that much, just smiled and followed after him.

"You guys go ahead!" Dwight called, jittery while on the bottom of the steps. "They're unloading my car! I don't want to get in yours—it doesn't have the proper protective countermeasures against my enemies!"

"Dwight! You are _not_ taking that Impala to Fifth and Park, I swear, you are _not_—" Wes yelled from the window.

"No, no," grinned Evan. "Let him. He can park it at the garage."

"I want to see it be the combo breaker amidst those European sportscars," Ethan added with a nod.

Dwight quickly ran off. The door to the limousine closed and they were on their way, heading for Manhattan island. Kurt, magnetized as he was by all the sights, finally looked at the twins, staring. "Who _are_ you two?"

The people in the limousine laughed much in the same way Wes, David and Blaine did back then when Kurt had first asked if they were gay. The Twins looked at him with boundless affection. "We're perfect."

Blaine rolled his eyes but smiled. "They're very very wealthy."

"Their parents manufacture aircraft for a number of companies, and their products have quite percentage of the market," David explained. "They're ridiculously rich."

"What are you doing in Ohio, then?" Kurt asked disbelievingly. "Shouldn't you be in some European boarding school or something?"

"We're _very_ troublesome to keep anywhere too high profile," Evan admitted.

"We've been horribly spoiled by our parents and sister," Ethan explained.

"And so to keep us in check…"

"They sent us to Dalton—"

"—Which is dad's alma mater!—"

"Where we can't make any trouble."

Everyone in the limo gave them a stare that clearly questioned if they (or their parents) were of sound mind and judgment. The Twins only looked at each other pretended to blush. Wes just shook his head. He glanced behind them through the tinted screens and saw Dwight following in the Impala. From the way he was head-banging, it had to be another "mullet rock" classic that was playing in there.

No one had the time to get very impatient before before they made it through Queens, and at which point, the Twins said, "Look out the window, Alice."

Kurt turned, and stared.

There was Manhattan. Right outside his window. The Empire State building soared beyond the rest, and from where he was, he could also see that iconic Chrysler building. That spiraling cityscape full of bustling people, one of the most famous cities in the world and the hotbed of sophistication, arts, and bohemian life, most of all, the home of Broadway—he was going to it. He was having sensory overload.

Reed was grinning as he pretended to fan his friend. "We could've taken the chopper, couldn't we?"

"Yes, but he wouldn't be _this_ flustered if it went by that fast," grinned David. Evan happily snapped a photo, his twin snatching out the Polaroid.

"Aww. Alice's first trip to New York," he said.

"And it won't be the last."

* * *

Park Avenue was overwhelming to someone who had never really quite gotten used to a whole lot of luxury. In itself, it was picturesque, with all those old buildings that retain their air of conservative sophistication. Kurt, who was still reeling at the close-up sight of the Chrysler building, the Grand Central Station and the Met-Life building, stared as they stopped before a large building with gleaming gold and glass doors. Dwight pulled up right behind them.

"Yay! New York home sweet home!" chorused the identical ones.

The doorman walked over and opened the limo door. The twins hopped out first—crushing the usual fifty to his hand as they shook hands with him—and nodded to the others. "Let's go."

Blaine helped Kurt, whose eyes looked so big as they looked around, that he nearly laughed. He let the others go ahead and squeezed Kurt's hand to get his attention. Kurt trained his blue eyes at him and for a moment, Blaine just had to smile, before saying, "I'm afraid I can't give you your Christmas gift until tonight. Is that all right?"

"Of course it is," Kurt said sensibly. He nodded to Blaine's hands and smiled. "You're wearing them already?" He had given Blaine suede gloves—and had prepared something else that he planned on giving him later. Blaine smiled and held up the gloves. "I like them." And he used those warmly gloved hands to take Kurt's, leading him into the building.

They followed the twins through the brilliant lobby of sumptuous décor, and to the elevators. But they did not use any of the others in the gleaming banks. They headed towards the sole elevator around a corner. It was one that needed a thumb-scan. Only one of them had to do it—and then the doors opened, and everyone rushed in.

In the cramped space, as they shot upwards steadily, the boys kept "accidentally" shoving Kurt onto Blaine. At one point, David and Wes were trying to wrestle each other in the elevator and Wes was successfully pinning Kurt against Blaine.

Blaine was completely unfazed about it—or at least, it looked that way—and he held Kurt quietly without a sign of discomfort. Far more impressive than Kurt's own inability to think past being pressed close enough to feel the other boy's heartbeat.

When the elevator doors opened, Kurt realized why the twins had their own elevator. They owned the entire floor. The place itself was massive, almost to the very top of the building, with a spectacular view that could look out over Central Park and beyond. The condominium was elaborately decorated and had incredible furnishings—the interior trend was black, white and blue—that made it look comfortable and sophisticated at the same time.

There was already lunch waiting for them at the dining hall, and the boys ran towards it with the single-mindedness of the ravenous. As they consumed their meal of angus beef steaks—the only thing that could apparently tame their voracious adolescent hungers—the Twins finally spoke.

"About that party…" Evan blinked.

"Don't we have to explain to Alice?" Ethan asked.

"Explain to me what?" Kurt asked, looking up.

The Windsor boys looked at each other. Blaine put his fork down. "I think we shouldn't do that this year. This wouldn't bode well for Kurt."

"Which is why we have to tell him," said Evan with a smile.

"It's a pretty wild one," said Ethan.

"If it's anything like we have at Windsor—" Kurt began, but David shook his head with a bit of forced smile. "No, no…they means lots of guests, pounding music, girls, epilepsy-inducing lights, some serious booze, and the fact that…" He glanced at Blaine.

Blaine looked at Kurt, and Kurt looked at him, and then glanced to how everyone else in the room looked very awkward.

"Well of course we'd get you out of it, if anything went awry…" said Reed quickly.

"If you stay close to one of us, I mean," added Wes.

The Twins cleared their throats. Evan leaned forward. "What he means to say is that on midnight…"

"When the ball drops at Times Square…" Ethan did the same.

"Everyone…"

"_Everyone_…"

"Gets to kiss someone."

Kurt blinked. "But, isn't that what everyone already does…?"

"But that's not all—"

"Not quite—"

"Because by that time, everyone will be dizzy, disoriented—"

"—and drunk on music, or booze or hormones—"

"And so when the ball drops…"

"The lights go out."

Blaine sat up. Kurt frowned.

The Twins smiled.

"And then you get to kiss anyone. Anyone you like. And you will never know who it is."

* * *

"You don't _have_ to go," Blaine said, following Kurt into his room later on that day, when everybody finally finished settling in. He looked more upset about the issue than Kurt was. "It's ridiculous, it's just something that they like to do when it's their turn to host. I figured they wouldn't do it to you after…after you got kissed without consent."

Kurt sat down on the bed and smiled up at him. "If you don't mind my saying, it's starting to sound a lot like Gossip Girl up here?"

"Doesn't it just?" Blaine smiled now and sat next to him. He sighed. "So far, though, is it all that bad?"

"No," Kurt said nonchalantly. "You all have been nothing but overly hospitable. I don't know much by way of wild parties held by hormone-driven boys, but I do know that I have a few more days until the ball drops. Until then, I think I can decide if I even want to participate in the depravity."

He flopped backwards onto the waterbed, which rippled beneath him. "I'm in New York, for crying out loud. I think I'd like to make the most of it."

Blaine tried very hard not to look at him so much as he lay there, supple, looking up at the ceiling with those incredible eyes of his that seemed to take in the light in the room. Blaine turned to the window, then glanced at his watch.

He nudged Kurt's hand. "It's almost time anyway. Come on. I'm giving you your Christmas present."

Intrigued, Kurt sat up. "Oh really."

"Yeah." Blaine stood, held out his hand to him. "Might be a good way to end the day."

Kurt looked down a moment and smiled. He took his hand. "Let's go. We'll have to get out before any of them suspect we're going to escape."

"No, they're occupied with selecting party food. That'll take _at least_ four hours."

* * *

The days were short. The light was dying over New York already. With daylight fading away, the city that never slept began to fire up its lights. One building to the next—a carpet of light that steadily grew in intensity as more joined it in the late afternoon.

Kurt and Blaine, carrying his trusty boombox again, walked down Avenue of the Americas. Blaine kept his hand securely on Kurt's as they pushed moved past the people on the street. It didn't take Kurt very long to realize where Blaine was actually taking him. And so when he stopped in front of the building…

Kurt stared up at the edifice and then to Blaine. "Radio City Music Hall…?"

"That's right," Blaine smiled. "I figured if we're going to be huge stars, we might as well get used to seeing it." He laughed. "Let's go." He pulled Kurt along, going all the way around to the back entrance.

"Are you supposed to be doing that?" Kurt asked as Blaine pushed the door open, looking around. "If the place was open, we could use the front door."

"So technically, we're borrowing the place a moment," Blaine answered with a grin, pulling him in. The door slammed shut. Everything turned to darkness, and he saw nothing. He only had Blaine's voice and his hand leading him. "What are we doing here?"

Blaine just smiled to himself, not answering Kurt. He pulled him through the labyrinth of dimly lit backstage halls, where their footsteps echoed through the emptiness. At first, Kurt wasn't sure if they were even going anywhere until finally—into light.

Kurt stopped short as Blaine continued to walk, his footsteps sounding onto the stage. After the dim passages, to suddenly move past the curtains and be exposed to the vast grandness of the entire stage, and to the arch of the ceiling, the seats lit and after that—it was no longer all that difficult to imagine standing in front of a crowd that roared the moment you stepped out into the lights.

Blaine set the boombox down on the stage and turned around carefully on his heel to look at Kurt, smiling. "…what do you think?"

Kurt stepped out into open stage, looking around himself. This massive location housed some of the most incredible artistic performances the world has seen, and now here he was, Kurt Hummel, right beneath the house lights, looking out to it.

At the expression on Kurt's face and inability to speak, Blaine smiled and decided that his present seemed to be a success. It was worth seeing that in Kurt's eyes.

"How…" Kurt stammered, looking around, adjusting to the shock that even his inner diva had not been prepared for. He had always lived for the stage, that much was certain, but to see it from this side, in this place, in New York City, for the first time…

"I pulled some strings…" Blaine murmured, looking around and admiring it as well. "Actually, my mother did, at my request. They have…some leverage in stage matters. Besides… I only asked for an extension on a period of time when no one was actually using it, or preparing to set up, just yet. So…it's all ours for the next thirty minutes."

Blaine walked to the edge of the stage and leapt into the orchestra pit. Kurt looked up. "Hey! Where are you going?"

"Where else? To get a good seat." He headed up the aisles, and unceremoniously plopped down on one of the cushioned seats. He smirked at him. "So I can watch you sing."

Kurt's eyebrows went up. "Sing. Now?"

"No day but today," Blaine said offhandedly.

"Huh…" Kurt seemed to think about it, and a gleam of an idea came into his eyes as he gave Blaine a smirk. "No…I don't think so. You're coming up here to sing with me."

"You've got to be kidding. I thought holiday miracles ended at Christmas—Kurt Hummel gets the Radio City Music Hall Stage to himself for the first time…and he wants to _share_?"

Kurt answered with the same offhand way, crossing his arms. "Well you did bring me here… And just because it's my first time doesn't mean it's going to be my last, I can assure you that." He smirked. "And a song doesn't last thirty minutes. I think I'll have time to further regale you with my talents after you give in to this request?"

Blaine had to laugh. He got up with a sigh, shedding his coat onto the seat. "And what did you have in mind?"

"Something worthy of the occasion…" Kurt seemed to consider. He then gracefully walked up to the boombox, quickly selected a song, and hit play. And the moment the opening drum beats sounded, Blaine recognized the song and smiled.

Kurt grinned and gestured for him to come hither.

_Live in my house,_

_I'll be your shelter,_

_Just pay me back_

_With one thousand kisses_

_Be my lover and I'll cover you…_

Blaine, smiling in amusement, carefully walked down the aisle towards him as he sang:

_Open your door,_

_I'll be your tenant_

_Don't got much baggage to lay at your feet_

_But sweet kisses I've got to spare_

_I'll be there and I'll cover you…_

As Blaine reached the edge of the stage looking up expectantly at him with eyes bright, Kurt knelt down on the edge, leaning to him, smirking as they continued together:

_I think they meant it when they said you can't buy love_

_Now I know you can rent it _

_A new lease you are my love, on life_

_Be my life…_

As Blaine mounted the stage again, the doors to the audience entrance slowly opened. Reed's head peeked in first, and upon seeing the pair onstage, grinned immediately. He turned and gestured for the others to come in.

The rest of the boys quickly came in, tiptoeing down the aisle—Shane romping ahead, with a video camera— watching as the two danced around the stage to the music. Kurt took off his scarf and placed it around Blain's neck, using it to pull him close.

_Just slip me on,_

_I'll be your blanket_

_Wherever, whatever, I'll be your coat…_

"_You'll be my King, and I'll be your castle__,_" Kurt sang, grinning as he moved around him, and Blaine shook his head with a cheeky grin, singing, "_No, you'll be my Queen, and I'll be your moat__…"_

The boys in the audience nearly laughed out loud. The pair continued to sing, looking wonderfully alive:

_I think they meant it when they said you can't buy love_

_Now I know you can rent it _

_A new lease you are my love, on life _

_All my life…_

As the two of them swirled on stage around each other, singing with everything they had, looking intently at each other as they exchanged lines in perfect time:

_I've longed to discover_

_Something as true as this is…_

_So with a thousand sweet kisses_

_(If you're cold and you're lonely)_

_I'll cover you—_

_With a thousand sweet kisses_

_(__You've got one nickel only)_

_I'll cover you—_

_With a thousand sweet kisses_

_(When you're worn out and tired)_

_I'll cover you—_

_With a thousand sweet kisses,_

_(When your heart has expired)_

_I'll cover you—_

Their hands touched again, pulling each other close, Kurt moving his hands over the scarf that dangled down Blaine's chest.

_Oh, lover,_

_I'll cover you,_

_Yeah…_

_Oh, lover,_

_I'll cover you..._

The music faded away, leaving them both leaning close, foreheads just brushing each other's. Kurt glanced upwards a moment, smiling a little, and it made Blaine grin.

The boys in the audience burst into applause and cheers, making the two look up immediately. As the others clapped as hard as they could, Wes was catcalling and Shane was laughing out loud, making sure to take the memory card out of the camera quickly.

Blaine and Kurt laughed from onstage, both flushed red, both abashed and still taken in by the moment. "Encore!" Reed called. "Encore, encore!"

"Just you then," Blaine said, as he released Kurt. "This is your present, after all. The stage is all yours."

"Best Christmas present I've received yet," Kurt smirked back. _Other than you. _Blaine just laughed and went down to the others as Kurt blew kisses to them, preparing to make his second performance.

* * *

_On the next episode: **SPOTTED**: K and R running into Bergdorf Goodman armed with platinum charge cards, but we doubt their combined forces would even make a dent on Mrs. Van Kamp's purchase budget. E&E are still planning the party to end all parties-let's just hope no one gets carded. The inseparable D&W run into some problems when they just happen to 'lose track' of K. B has more than the usual reasons to fret; especially as we just spotted L, fresh from Paris and looking blissfully drugged down, arriving in Grand Central Station without his athletic 'chaperone'. And if he's coming to the party, let's just say that all kissing bets have to restart all over again._


	15. Come in

_Hi, I'm C Coulter and I'm your writer for this fic._

_First: I apologize about the delay. It's been difficult lately, especially with other issues to deal with on my plate... I apologize and hope to be able to do better in the future._

_Second: Let us not forget that the Warblers are also a glee club. They have problems, especially with competition. _

_And finally: this is in dedication to all the gay friends that I know, those who had trouble finding themselves._

_Thank you to everyone for your continued reading. It's really been unreal to me, and an honor. I would like to thank you, tumblr people especially, for blowing this up more than it already has. It really is beyond all expectations, and I am truly grateful._

_This is the calm before the storm. T__he next one is the big one. _

_(**I do not own Glee**.)_

* * *

**Dalton**

**Episode 15: Come In...**

* * *

_I'm Kurt._

_I recently transferred to Dalton Academy. _

_I recently got flown to New York by the obscenely wealthy Twins. That can't be good—their evil and all that money puts them a few steps away from mounting world domination._

_I found out what Windsors did on New Year's parties. I can't say I'm that worried…_

_But it certainly won't bode well for everyone if they hit the wrong lips._

* * *

When Kurt opened his eyes the morning of the 29th, looked through the window and saw the sky, the skyscrapers and Central Park, he smirked to himself. It wasn't a dream this time—he was really still in New York. It was a heady sensation; or perhaps that was just the effect of the height the condo was in. It didn't seem all too real, but his Christmas preset from Blaine—his own little debut on Radio City Music Hall—was so vivid in his mind that it simply had to be real.

He just finished getting dressed and was fixing his hair when there was a knock at the door. "Come in."

Reed's fluffy strawberry-blond hair peeked in. "Hey, you're up! Great! Ow…" he crushed his toe under the door as he came in. But he grinned and hopped over to Kurt. "So!"

"So…?" Kurt glanced at him at the corner of his eyes.

"Plans?" Reed queried.

"Aren't we supposed to go to your exhibit tonight in the Upper West Side?" Kurt asked as he lowered his hairspray. "Or did you mean for this morning?"

"Well I was just thinking that if you didn't have anything else on your plate…" Reed casually took out two gleaming platinum cards from his pocket and fanned himself with them, smiling up at his friend.

Kurt stared at the cards, then at him and back again. "You are not. You are _not_."

"Yes, I am," Reed answered. "The staff at Bergdorf have been forewarned to expect my presence and that of a…VIP. Some aspiring Broadway Diva named Hummel. Would you know him?"

"Reed…" Kurt turned fully to him. "This is too much. Not only have the Tweedles already flown me here, let me live in their _Park Avenue _condominium _and_ give me full use of their chauffeur to go sightseeing in the past two days, but _you've_ dumped an entire wardrobe of clothes onto me—worth thousands of dollars—including products…" He threw up his hands. "You can't keep doing this—I feel like a charity case!"

"Oh please, Kurt…" Reed's expression of irritation was almost frighteningly like his mother's. He got up and sat across him on the bed. "Why can't you just let us spoil you? It's not like we do this all the time."

"The first day I moved in, you guys fully furnished my room." Kurt said, eyes narrowed.

"That's different, it's _a special occasion_," Reed sighed. "Look at it this way. We're not doing this because we pity you or anything—why should we? You're a Windsor, so that doesn't make you any different from us. If you notice, we all kind of do this to each other, and not just you. Remember how the Twins pulled out Dwight's party? Was Dwight a charity case? No—his family has major shares in theme parks in Florida and some in the West Coast. Which is an added bonus for everyone else when we feel like going on a few rollercoasters. If you had as much money I bet you'd do the same for your McKinley friends, right?"

Kurt leaned back on his vanity chair and sighed, shrugging. "I suppose, I don't know—maybe, if I was particularly _giving_…" He smiled a little.

"Now in my case," and here Reed performed his best impression of a wounded bunny begging for help, "I've never _had_ anyone to talk to about fashion and stuff like this, Kurt! Blaine's all right, but he can get kind of serious and he's always wound up with dealing with everyone else. Please, please, _please_ go shopping with me to Bergdorf? You don't even have to _get_ anything, you just have to put up with my company. Please?"

Kurt dropped his face into his hand with a deep sigh of surrender. "…well _someone_ has to make sure you don't knock over the mannequins…"

"_Yes_!" Reed leapt off the bed—and fell face-first onto the carpet.

* * *

David was staring out of the window, his cell to his ear. "…but she's all right?"

"We're not sure yet, David," said the woman's voice gently from the other end of the phone call. "She's still in surgery… We won't know until a couple of hours."

"I understand…" David sat down at the bay window. "…I really wanted to be there."

"David, you couldn't have known," answered the woman. "And she didn't want you to know. You spent most of Christmas with her already when you should have been with your family."

"I don't spend enough time with her, I think. With school…choir…soccer…"

"You spend too much," the woman said. "Even she thinks so."

"It doesn't count. …I know there's a chance that I might not have that long with her."

Silence on the other end. "Oh, David," the woman finally said softly. "You shouldn't give up like that. She wouldn't be happy to hear that coming from you. We'll know how it turns out by end of today."

David sighed deeply, leaning back on the wall. "Please call me when Katherine gets out, Mrs. Rivers? I…I kind of want to be with her for New Years. Even if it's just over the phone."

"Of course, you'll be my first call the moment she gets out."

"Thank you, Mrs. Rivers. I'll talk to you later."

David hung up and let the hand holding the phone fall limp to his side as he looked out to the cityscape from the window, chewing on the thumbnail of his free hand. His body remained still, but his eyes flickered through the scene as though he were searching.

Wes came up behind him and put a hand on his shoulder, shaking it a little in reassurance. "Hey. You going to be all right?"

David patted his friend's hand. "I will once she gets off the table."

"Hey man, if there's anything we can do, we told you—"

"I know." David said, looking up at him with a small smile. "Right now I've still got it under control. Whatever she needs, I've got it."

Blaine finally lowered the paper he was reading and walked over. He looked a little worried. "Wait—David… You taking care of Katherine like this is fine by us and all…but this better not be out of guilt. We talked about this, right?"

David got up. "Okay. All right. Let's not go back to this. Bottom line—I've got this. Katherine's going to be all right. All right? End discussion, guys."

Wes looked at Blaine, who just nodded slowly. Wes went to David and gave him a quick hug. "All right, man. If you say so. You're doing a great job."

"Yeah, thanks…"

Happily shattering the somewhat awkward air, a pair of wildly colorful blurs came tearing through the hall, putting on boots. "Let's go, let's go!" Reed cried, nearly tripping over his Fendis.

"And where do you think you two are going?" asked Blaine, raising an eyebrow, trying not to stare at how those black Sevens were clinging to Kurt's legs as he put on his Doc Martens. This was the problem with going ahead and kissing someone. Now that he'd had one, he had to keep wondering about more.

"Bergdorf's," Reed answered, struggling with the zipper of his boots. "We're going to go do retail therapy."

"Just the two of you?" asked Wes.

"Yeah," Kurt answered.

"Whoa, you two are not going out by yourselves," said David, walking up to them, looking at them as though they were crazy. "At least let me and Wes go with you."

"We're not five," Kurt said sensibly, raising an eyebrow as he put on his jacket—the white mink that everyone in the condo was secretly planning on destroying.

Wes shook his head. "Not exactly like that. It'll be like someone blind leading someone lame. Reed knows his way around, but you're keeping him from maiming himself and you don't know your way around New York all that well yet."

Kurt gave them a disbelieving stare. "You two are acting…odder than usual."

"No we are not," the two chorused, staring at them.

Perhaps they were. But it had mostly to do with something the twins had sent them over phone earlier. The Tweedles had fled bright and early that morning—possibly heading out to see decorators for the massive party that seemed to be attracting every Windsor and Dalton boy who had time to fly from wherever they were. Especially after the twins hinted that a couple of Victoria's Secret supermodels might make an appearance.

But when the twins sent this message from wherever they may be lurking:

_AMBER ALERT—Saw the Knave in Le Pain Quotidien. Looks sobered down, don't know if good or bad. Keep tabs on Alice._

David and Wes started to get a little worried. Logan lived somewhere in the Upper East Side as well, but they had heard he was in Paris for Christmas with his severe father and the trophy wife. Him coming back within days of the party was something to worry about.

They had talked about this with the twins, about any Anti-Logan contingency plans as they tried to all but cuff Blaine and Kurt together. "What do you mean you can't just bar him from coming?" Wes had asked. "It's _your_ _house_!"

"But it's technically not _our_ party," Evan had explained. "You guys know it, we know it—the New Year party pass-around is a tradition and every Dalton tradition comes with annoying rules, such as…"

"The hosts have the option to kill the lights…" Ethan said, counting with his fingers.

"…thou shalt give all Warblers VIP…"

"…thou shalt not puke over the balcony…"

"…thou shalt not answer the phone if it's your parents—"

"…And _every Legacy immediately has access into the party._" Ethan crossed his arms over his chest. "And Logan's family has had Legacy for four generations, and in Stuart for two. _And_ he's a Warbler. So he has triple the automatic invite."

This was impressive, seeing as how only a few Dalton boys can claim Legacy of this magnitude—the Twins included. David just barely made the upper echelons with two generations. Dwight had one generation fallback, while Blaine, Wes and Reed didn't even have Legacy to boast of.

So whether they liked it or not, if Logan so chose to arrive at the 31st, he would have to be admitted in. Blaine was actually _that_ close to being official with Kurt, so Wes and David could take no chances. They had seen the confession backstage. And while they have good headway so far between the Rabbit and Alice, the Knave had every ability to step in.

"I have to buy Katherine something for New Year's anyway," David said casually. "Might as well go with you. I don't even know what to get her."

Kurt and Reed looked at each other. Kurt then said to them, "I suppose we could help you out in that direction…"

"Are you sure you want to go with us?" Reed blinked. "Because you're going to have to help me deal with holding Kurt back once he sees all the Marc Jacobs." He ducked Kurt's swat at him.

"It'll be fine," Wes said, already picking up his phone and putting it into his pocket.

"I won't be joining you, unfortunately," said Blaine, glancing at them, looking apologetically at Kurt. "Shane's disappeared and I have to go see where he'd gotten to. I'm only hoping that he didn't go out with Dwight—the Impala's also gone—who seems to have gone out hunting at the Morris-Jumel Mansion. And I refuse to have him contaminate my excitable brother." He rolled his eyes, exasperated. He wondered why they were hundreds of miles from school and yet he still had to babysit everyone else.

"We'll be fine without you, then," Kurt said, suddenly giving him a rather affectionate hug. Blaine was surprised, but held Kurt by the waist and smiled. "Have fun," he said.

"It's Bergdorf, Blaine. Your problem is prying me out."

"Then, I'll pick you all up later and I'll help them peel you off the door." He grinned.

Wes and David pretended to gag from the door, Reed kicking them as they did. But Blaine and Kurt had made _some_ progress at least. They weren't shying away from each other anymore. But they've yet to make the Armageddon-style impact everyone had been waiting for. And they had to make sure no one suddenly decides to go out and be a hero before that happens.

* * *

"Dear god, Kurt, _stop_!" Reed begged. "I can't take it anymore!"

"Just a bit more—stop moving so much! " Kurt snapped.

"It won't fit!"

"Yes it will!"

"Well if you just let me—"

"No, not until I say so!"

"Just let me—"

"—shh!"

Wes and David glanced at each other with deeply disturbed expressions at the noises in the dressing room. They were not quite prepared to board the actual train of thought that the sounds entailed, so David gingerly knocked. "Pardon me, guys, but _what the hell?_"

There was a brief squabble inside and Reed whined, "Kurt won't leave me alone! I told him that the pants won't fit! And I'm pretty sure that I'm losing my circulation!"

"They _do _fit and you just don't know how to zip them up right!" Kurt shot back.

"There's _five different zippers!_"

Wes pressed a hand into his temple. "I think I'll let you handle this," he said to David. To the two in the dressing room, he said with extended patience, "Are we positive that after this, we are finally leaving this place? It's been five hours and I'm pretty sure that dragon living in my stomach just ate my appendix."

"You were the ones who wanted to come with us…" muttered Kurt.

There was a sound of something zipping up so fast that fabric could have torn. "Yes!" Reed gasped from inside the dressing room. "Let's leave before Kurt shovels me into another coat!"

"_You_ were the one who wanted me to come with you!" Kurt also shot at him.

Wes looked at David. "I'll go tell Blaine to come get us and tell some people to…pick all this up." He motioned to the plethora of shopping bags that were waiting at the counter.

To say that the twosome went overboard was an understatement. The number could rival corporate giveaways and it had come to the point that not even all four of them could carry it all. While Kurt steadfastly maintained that most if not all of them were Reed's, he was sure that a good number will be going back to Lima with Kurt—who was determined to indoctrinate his new stepmother to couture in the hopes that some of it rubs off on her son.

Wes left, leaving David to listen to the two in the dressing room.

"So…" Kurt said almost successfully offhand, brushing down his clothes, "…we have to talk about Shane."

Reed froze. "What about Shane?"

Kurt raised his eyebrow at him. "Reed, you can't be serious. He is following you around staring at you. He's _worshipping_ you. He's probably the High Priest of Reed-ism right now."

"Kurt, please don't say those things, they really make me uncomfortable," Reed said tightly, looking down at the floor.

"Well they're true." Kurt said. He studied his friend. "Does it really make you feel that bad? Because if it does, we'll tell him to leave you alone."

"Shane's…really great, he's a nice guy, but…I just don't know how to feel about him being interested in me. That way."

Kurt stared, then let out his breath and crossed his arms over his chest. "All right, Reed. I'm about to make a breach of privacy here and you're going to have to forgive me but at this point it has to be asked: which way do you actually swing? Because Blaine and I, our radars scream their heads off on you especially after all this, but no one's actually _sure_."

Silence. David felt he should step away from this and gave the two their privacy by following after Wes.

Finally, Reed let out his breath. "…I don't know."

Kurt sat on the cushioned chair in the large dressing room. "You don't know," he repeated, stared up questioningly at Reed.

"I'm in high school—aren't I allowed to be a little…confused sometimes?" Reed mumbled, picking at the belt he was wearing. "I mean… I haven't ever really fallen in love with a girl before, but I always thought that it was because I just haven't found one I liked…? And I'm surrounded by all these people who pretty much think that I am, and it just makes me think that I _should_ be, but at the same time I don't think that's right either—to be…gay just because everyone expected me to be…" He looked at Kurt. "Does this make sense at all?"

"Surprisingly, yes." Kurt smiled a bit.

"And then Shane… I met him and seriously, I didn't think I was…you know, _hit_ or anything. The way Blaine was with you—"

"Pardon?" Kurt interrupted, narrowing his eyes at him.

"He got hit _hard_, Kurt—they tell me Blaine looked like he got hit by a freight train—just own it," Reed waved it away. "My point is…I didn't see Shane like that. He just looked like, well…a friend. New person. Blaine's younger brother. And then he started following me and you all started telling me that he was in love with me—"

"He is over the _moon_. Own _that_."

"—right, well—it's semi-not-mutual right now."

"Semi?" Kurt smiled a bit more.

Reed rolled his eyes awkwardly. "…No one's _actually_ ever been in love with me. And to hear that Shane is, well…it…kind of…sounded nice. And I found him…really sweet, creepy as it is." He sighed. "But I don't want to keep Shane trailing along like this either—it sounds cruel." Reed smiled. "You're actually the first person to ask about this, did you know?

Kurt nodded slowly, considering. He looked around the room a moment, then said, "Can I ask another one? The way you are with us Windsors, Warblers… right now? You're just being you, right?"

"Yeah…"

"Are you happy when you're just…winging it with us?"

"You have no idea." Reed smiled.

"Then the label is unnecessary," Kurt declared, standing. He shrugged. "Not one of us is rushing you to figure it out—or they would've said so. You just keep being fabulous and we'll all get along. If you like girls, or guys, it doesn't really make a big difference to us. And whatever you decide, I'm sure that if Shane really does like you, he'll support. Or we'll make him. Whichever."

Reed laughed and shook his head. "Right. I'm sure."

"…and in response to this breach of privacy, I'll tell you a secret that if you tell _anyone_ in Dalton, I will set fire to your McQueens." He leaned over and whispered in Reed's ear.

Reed listened, and then his eyes widened to their fullest extent, jaw dropping. He stared at Kurt. "No."

"Yes."

"No!"

"It was _plaid_." Kurt nodded somberly.

"…and the _hat_…" Reed stared in shock, eyes bright.

"Okay, the topic is now over!" Kurt exclaimed, bright red in the face, walking out of the dressing room rapidly, Reed trailing after him, wildly excited as he chased him across the floor. "You can't just drop it like that! Details! When was this? And the _accent_! What did people _say_?"

"Conversation is over, Reed, and I swear if you tell _anyone_, especially Wes, David and the Tweedles, I will—"

"Wait," Reed looked around. "Where _are_ Wes and David?"

The department store continued on in its bustle, but with no sign of their companions. They searched the floor, looking for them until they reached the store entrance, rushing outside. There was no car waiting for them either, and there was no sign of the twosome. "Didn't Wes say he was going to call the others?" Kurt said, looking around.

"Yes…even the bags are gone…" Reed found no sign of their bags. "Where did David go?"

"Maybe he followed him."

"I'll go check with the staff, stay here," Reed hurried off to find one of the attendants, nearly hitting glass in his haste. Kurt, who just pulled out his cell phone and do the rational thing—call them—made to go after his friend. "Reed, wait—!"

He stopped. He stood staring at someone he recognized, walking towards the direction of Central Park. He thought he was seeing things, but it had to be right—the blond head that moved through the crowd was still the same, but the green eyes looked dull with haze.

"…Logan…?" Kurt narrowed his eyes a little.

He looked different, the very appearance of someone who had gone through some holiday stress. He appeared paler than usual, his pallor contrasting too much against his jet black coat. Hands in his pockets, mist coming from his lips, he headed to the park.

Kurt glanced back to the door. He looked down at the coat he was wearing and sighed. He remembered what Logan said backstage and shook his head. If he had the chance to do it, he'll have to now, before the other Windsors could swoop down. He made a quick text, sending it to Reed.

_Be right back. –K_

And he ran after Logan before he could lose him in the crowd. He pierced through the people, somehow glad that Logan was so tall—he could still see him. As Kurt flew off, someone who was just heading to Bergdorf looked up and stopped in surprise at the sight of him.

Shane blinked. _Where's he going…? He'll get lost— _He quickly began to follow, crossing the street and going after him. A quick glance to where Kurt was looking helped him spot a tall blond heading to Central park. Shane felt startled.

_Logan Wright…? What the hell…?_ His eyes darkened a little, and he walked faster, determined to catch up to them. He pulled out his Sidekick and sent a cryptic message to his brother.

_SOS, Central Park! Follow my GPS! – S_

* * *

Logan sat at one of the benches, folding his gloved hands together and looking up at the trees, exhaling a cloud as he did. There were always people in Central Park, but right now he could barely hear any of them. He was still fighting through his own fog. He rested his elbows onto his knees, leaning over.

A pair of beautifully-booted feet stopped in front of him topped by a swirl of white mink. He raised his eyes blearily and saw Kurt Hummel, flushed with exertion, looking at him. He stared a moment, not sure if this was what he was actually seeing. "…Kurt?"

"Hi," Kurt said shortly.

"Uh, hi." Logan sat up, blinking in confusion. "Why are you—" he stopped then remembered. "Ah… Twins must have taken you to visit for the New Year party…"

"Yeah," Kurt nodded. "I…saw you head here."

"And you followed me?"

Kurt colored bright red. "…maybe."

Logan nodded, just seeming to take this information without being able to feel anything about it. "Okay." He looked at the coat. "…it looks good on you."

"Everything does," Kurt shrugged.

There was a most awkward pause that followed. Logan seemed to look past Kurt and just look completely out of himself than was normal.

Finally, Kurt said, "About the coat… thank you."

Logan smiled slightly and shrugged, almost disinterested. "Not a big deal. I figure the rest of the Windsors buried you in more anyway."

Kurt finally just cut to the chase. "…look, seriously now—are you all right? Because you don't look—"

"Venomous? Intense? Dangerous? Weapons-Grade Psychotic?"

The countertenor pursed his lips. So Logan was self-aware, and aware of what everyone else thought of him. He had to give him that. "…healthy, was the word. I know they're trying to make you better, in some degree, but what have they been giving you?"

"I decided not to ask…but half the time I feel like I'm going to go full stop altogether—I'm that hazy. I just wanted to get out and get some fresh air." He waved absently. "Clear my head. Right now, I'm just… I feel like I'm going to disappear."

Kurt didn't know what to make of that. He sat carefully next to him, remaining a prudent distance. "…but you're going to be all right?"

"Yes, I think so. Once I leave my father's spyglass, I'll be all right," Logan smiled a little.

Kurt remembered Mr. Wright very vividly. "…yeah, your dad really knows how to roast."

"That was the _best _Parisian Christmas_ ever_…" Logan said sarcastically. "I loved sharing a room with the old man and Michelle, pretending to be straight and shaking hands with politicians."

Kurt almost smiled. Logan looked at him and added, "How long will you be in New York?"

"Until New Year…"

"Oh so I'll see you at the party?"

Kurt stared. "The party?"

"Every Dalton Legacy is automatically invited to the New Year party tradition… I know that much. I didn't think I was going to go, but now…" he smiled at him. "Don't worry. I'll be good. As much as the drugs will allow anyway."

Kurt felt awkward and stood. "The party. Do the Twins know? They didn't—"

"Shh!" Logan suddenly said, looking up. He seemed like he was listening. "…do you hear that?"

Kurt listened. He heard a lot of laughter and talk from a crowd not too far from where they were, but he hadn't been consciously listening to them. It was only now that he noticed that there was something else.

Music.

Logan got up and looked to where it was coming from. After a moment's craning, he suddenly smirked, looking a bit more like his old self. "Ah. I get it. Come on."

"Why?"

"You'll want to see this." And he grabbed Kurt's hand and pulled him along over the path. Kurt's eyes widened, staring at the sudden contact. Only Blaine had ever held his hand so casually before.

It was at this point that Shane ran out of hiding and chased them. "Hey! Logan!" he yelled.

Logan appeared as though he knew he was there the whole time. He casually released Kurt's hand and said, "Hey Shane. Nice to see you again. Good timing. You'll want to see this too, so you can tell the others."

Shane, startled and confused at his casual attitude, only managed to say, "What? See what?"

"Our competition for Nationals."

The crowd in the park a way off from them was still growing, mainly because of startled onlookers. They looked like a group of students, most of them, clapping their hands to the beat. They were wearing ordinary clothes and looking excited. They formed a semicircle around a group of girls dancing and singing. There was a group of girls in rows, singing in chorus, while there was a primary group out front that was singing and dancing to "Do Somethin'".

Logan being the tallest, he pushed through the crowd for a better look and helped Shane and Kurt get nearer. The girls were particularly good—the ones in the ranks were singing in perfect chorus, having arranged the song into a show choir version that sounded clear in the air.

They backed up the main singers up front, who were shameless. They had the voices and they were unbelievable dancers, perfectly synchronized.

_I see you looking at me_

_Like I was some kind of freak—_

_Get up out of your seat—_

_Why don't you do somethin'?_

Sadly, it was the tail end of the song that the three caught up to. The girls made their finale, the lead three making a solid finish of their harmonization and high notes, and the crowd burst into applause and cheering, especially from the students.

"What the…?" Kurt stared at the girls, who were jumping up and down, waving and blowing flirty grins at everyone.

"Harold Kramer High School," Logan explained. "I've seen them before. They like to do public exhibitions. Sometimes with good and bad results because of the police shooing them off—I hear they invaded Grand Central once—but they don't care. These are just their girls. You're going to want to see what happens next."

The beautiful black girl with long braids that reached to her hips, one of the lead singers, was getting the crowd riled up. "You want some more of this?" she yelled, and the crowd cheered.

"Yeah!" the redhead among the lead singers waved to them. She made a come-hither gesture. "Hey boys! Let them have it!"

And from the crowd, rushing past everyone else, a mass of boys poured. They were all dressed in casual clothing and they gave each other high fives as the music from their stereo started to blast. They were all playing around, but the had the same formation as the girls—a solid vocal group behind the main singers.

A tall, slightly built boy with close-cropped brown hair moved to front and grinned, "Come on, boys—let's get them!"

They began to dance—and they were even better than the girls had been. The boys in front could really move, the likes of which Kurt hadn't seen since Mike Chang. It was like a whole _group_ of Mike Chang.

Shane stared. "…wow."

Kurt swallowed. Their vocals at the back did not dance as wildly as they did, but their voices melded in perfect harmony, like the Warblers'. And even in their dance, they energy was higher than the Warblers', each movement fluid and voices clear. Their music drove everyone to dance.

_I've got the magic in me_

_Everytime I touch that track it turns into gold_

_Everybody knows I've got the magic in me_

_When I hit the floor the girls come snappin' at me_

_Now everybody wants some presto magic_

If that hadn't been bad enough, their lead singers were also their lead dancers. Their show choir rendition of Magic was positively infectious and the grown was moving along to the beat already. The three boys in front were taking the lead.

_Magic, magic, magic_

_Magic, magic, magic_

_Magic, magic, magic(ahoo)_

_I've got the magic in me!_

They broke ranks, the chorus behind them dancing and just clearly having fun with what they were doing, grinning to each other. A dark haired boy slid forward on his knees and began to sing as he danced like a professional:

_These tricks that I'll attempt will blow your mind_

_Pick a verse, any verse, I'll hypnotize you with every line_

_I'll need a volunteer, how about you, with the eyes?_

_Come on down to the front, and stand right here and don't be shy_

And they could _rap_. How this was even happening was beyond comprehension. Each of the lead three had their turn at a line.

_I'll have you time-travellin', have your mind babblin'_

_People tryna inherit the skill so they askin' me_

_Even David Blaine had to go and take some classes, and_

_I see Mindfreak like, "What's up man, what's happenin'?"_

_So come one, come all, and see the show tonight_

_Prepare to be astounded, no Ghost or Poltergeist_

_You know I'm no Pinocchio, I've never told a lie_

_So call me Mr. Magic Man, I float on Cloud 9_

Kurt's heart was in his throat. This was bad. This was really really bad. The Kramer team had every synchronized order of the Warblers and all the energy and bright movements of New Directions. He hadn't seen this level of performance since Vocal Adrenaline—but the Kramer students had nothing robotic about them. They were just…

"Pure Energy," said Logan, eyeing them. "They're the Kramer High School Pure Energy."

The crowd cheered as the girls tore out of the crowd again and joined the boys—forming one massive sound, voices seamlessly blending as they danced.

_I've got the magic in me (I got the magic, baby)_

_Everytime I touch that track it turns into gold (Yes it turns to gold)_

_Everybody knows I've got the magic in me (I got the magic, baby)_

_When I hit the flow the girls come snappin' at me (They be snappin' baby)_

_Now everybody wants some presto magic_

_Magic, magic, magic_

_Magic, magic, magic_

_Magic, magic, magic(ahoo)_

_I've got the magic in me!_

At the end of their performance, the crowd—mostly comprised to Kramer students—stared to cheer wildly for the team, who were all cuffing each other, giving high fives and brofists. They bowed to their crowd, wacing and pointing. "Say it, Kramer!"

"_Nationals!"_ the school cheered.

"Say what?"

"_Nationals!"_

"Where we going?"

"That's right! Yeah!" the lead singers pumped their fists into the air, earning more cheers.

Kurt felt sick. They were insane. That team was insane. Shane wasn't a Warbler but even he looked ill. They were ferocious—and it wasn't even a stage performance. There was just no way that this team wouldn't actually make _their_ Regionals and subsequently step into Nationals. Logan looked a bit concerned but he just shook his head. "Let's go. Come on."

They were headed out of the crowd when they heard a voice. "Hey! Hey, Warblers!"

Kurt's eyes widened and he turned. One of the lead singers, the boy with the brown hair who was Finn's height and just as built, was pushing his way towards them. He had a big smile. "Hey there, boys—you liked the show?"

"You…know who we are?" Kurt asked incredulously.

"Who doesn't know you?" he answered with a grin. "We keep our tabs, man. Saw your Sectionals. You tied with the New Directions." He extended a hand. "I'm Tom, I'm the captain."

Logan shook his hand. "Logan. This is Kurt…and Shane."

"Hey." Shane shook hands with him.

"So we be seeing you at Nationals, yeah?" grinned Tom. "I sure hope so. This was all preview-of-coming-attraction. We're going all out for Nationals. We're coming after you guys."

"Sure…" Logan nodded, almost irritated. "Then, we'll be going."

"Don't be strangers!" Tom called to them as he grinned and ran back to his group. He seemed to wait until the Dalton boys subsequently left. And his teammates, the other leads, gathered around him. "S'that all about, Tom? Softening up the competition?" asked one of the other boys

"Sort of, yeah," Tom smirked.

"Please," said one girl, the one with the blonde highlights. "We can take them. They tied with the team that didn't make it past Regionals."

"Come on, now," said the good-looking black boy who rapped the best among them. He had his arm around the girl with the long braids. "They might make it this year."

"But they're so _serious_," grumbled another boy.

"Yeah they are," grinned Tom. "Let's go get out of here, guys. Check up on them Warblers later."

"You got that right."

* * *

"So I'll leave you here," said Logan on the street, looking at Kurt and Shane. "Don't let the Energies bother you. We don't have to deal with them until Nationals."

Kurt just nodded, mind racing. If the Warblers didn't get cracking, they won't make it past Vocal Adrenaline let alone those monsters in the park. What was New York feeding its students? He had to go talk to Harvey and Medel the moment he set foot back at Dalton.

Logan put a hand on his shoulder. "See you, then? At the party?"

Kurt shifted a little and nodded. "Yeah."

Shane, behind the taller boy, looked up, frowning. _He's coming to the…_ He grit his teeth. This guy had already broken his brother's heart once, and now he was going to do it again. In front of him.

_Like hell you're planning on kissing him in that party_. He stepped carefully past Logan, taking his hand out of his pocket. He held the memory card of the song in the Radio City Hall. He had another copy—so this one will go to good use. Glaring with barely any veils, he surreptitiously dropped the card into Logan's coat pocket.

_I hope it gives you a fucking heart attack_. Shane turned and grabbed Kurt's hand. "Let's go, Kurt—they're looking for us."

Shane wasn't the calm brother. He wasn't composed, he acted at will. He was the one who moved before thinking. He wasn't patient either, like Blaine. And Logan had just used up what little patience he had. So what if he was on medication and he was trying? Shane wasn't forgiving him. Not today, not tomorrow, not ever.

"See you!" Logan smiled, before he walked off.

Kurt only glanced back as Shane pulled him along. He looked at Shane and saw the look on his face. "What's wrong with you?" he demanded.

"Just stay away from him, all right?" Shane snapped. "You know what he did to Blaine!"

Kurt pulled his hand away, but strode alongside him. "So you knew—"

"_Knew_? I had to listen to everything Blaine went through when Logan did all that stuff him!" Shane snapped. "He got jealous, he got angry, he got violent, he left him for another guy, and when that other guy realized what an _asshat_ Logan was and started to hang out with Blaine for safety, he slammed them both! If I wasn't in Colorado, I would've—" He snarled. "I just _hate_ that guy."

Kurt shook his head. He didn't even know what to think of Logan anymore. He was begging for a chance but the story keeps unraveling and telling him that it wasn't going to be good. That story between Blaine, Logan and the soloist was still not complete and it wasn't boding well.

"Kurt! Shane!"

They looked up and saw the other Windsors running towards them. "Geez, you freaked us out!" Wes almost yelled when he ran up to them. "I go call Blaine and I come back and Reed's freaking out because you're gone!"

"Logan's in New York," Shane said without preamble.

"_What_?" Blaine pushed past Wes and David and went to Shane. He had received his brother's SOS and thought there was something bad that happened, and in a way, something had. "Where did you see him?"

"The park," Kurt said, shaking his head. "I…followed him. He looked bad. He said he was on a lot of medication."

"He's coming to the party!" Shane interjected.

"He is _not_!" Reed gasped. "He can't!"

"He can," said Blaine, shaking his head. "He's a Legacy. He gets to go." He looked at Kurt. "Are you all right? You look a bit shaken."

Kurt, for once, wasn't worried about Logan. He looked at the other Warblers. "I think…for Regionals and Nationals…we may be in a _little_ bit of trouble."

* * *

_On the next episode: **SPOTTED: **E&E holding what had to be the biggest school-tradition party in the Upper East Side. The booze is flowing, the music's pounding and the fireworks are going off everywhere. And we mean EVERYWHERE. So If the Windsors don't cracking, B and K might not be able to get that kiss if L comes crashing in. And with S having dropped him that little bomb, someone may just forego his meds for the evening..._


	16. 321

_Hi, I'm C Coulter, your writer for this fic._

_Well...that certainly took long enough. I think for the most part it may be due to the holidays, and the fact that there was a bit of difficulty making sure that the scenes went as smoothly as I planned. Many events happen in this Episode, and I had to be careful. It was "re-shot" several times, mainly owing to the myriad of possibilities that presented itself. In the end, when I just allowed them to be as they were, this was the result._

_I want to give my thanks and unending gratitude to those who waited, and my deep apologies to those who were expecting the work to come out sooner. I really hope that this kind of delay won't happen again-it was very unsettling for me, especially when I know that people are waiting for the next installment._

_In the end, I thank each and every one of you for your time, and hope that you will enjoy this episode._

_Merry Christmas, everyone._

_(**I do not own Glee.**)_

* * *

**Dalton**

**Episode 16: 3…2…1…**

* * *

"_Everything's okay? Seriously?"_

Logan laughed into the cellphone, looking out into the view beyond the glass. "Yes—wow you're really turning into a mother hen, it's scaring me."

"_Hey, I'm just saying…_" Derek answered from where he was back in Ohio. "_I heard the Brightmans were having a party. I figured you'd get worked up._"

"There's nothing to get worked up about…" Logan said absently. He raised his hand to eye level. He was turning a memory card carefully in his fingers. "Everything's fine. I've been medicated. I'm so numb that I could be CIPA patient."

"_Huh…Well, then…I guess I'll have to take your word for it."_

"Why are you in Westerville anyway? I figured when the Twins used the word "supermodels" in the broadcast, you'd be on the first plane out."

"_Dude, if the rowing team does not kick some ass next year, I'm going to have to make them row with their __**hands**__." _

"Whatever, Leonidas. It's still classified as torture to have anyone do anything school related on the holidays."

"_So says the guy who had the Warblers work all Spring Break last year._"

Logan smirked. "I have to go. Get ready for the party."

"_Whoa—wait. You're going? You didn't tell me you were going!"_

"I thought that was implied already."

"_Quote, Nah-I-don't-think-I'm-in-the-mood-to-get-sniped-at-all-night unquote."_

"I changed my mind. Besides…Kurt's going to be there."

The groan from the other end sounded like distilled exasperation.

"Relax, _mother_. I've got it under control. Go plan the slaughter of the team through practice."

"_Bancroft is going to that party. He's keeping an eye on you, I'm warning you!_"

"Bring it on… Justin's cool. Goodbye now, Derek."

"_Whatever._"

Logan hung up and pocketed the phone. He looked at the memory card with a smile almost affectionate. He tossed it into the air, the same way one would toss a coin. He caught it smoothly and walked off towards his closet, passing his upturned table, with the broken coffee cup on the floor, the smashed laptop screen, and the pill container with its white contents spilling all over the carpeted floor.

* * *

_I'm Kurt. I recently transferred to Dalton Academy._

_New Year's Eve._

_I got to sing at Radio City Music Hall, I got to shop at Bergdorf-Goodman, I got to attend an art Gala, I got to tour the city, and tonight, I attend the wildest school-tradition party in the Upper East Side. _

_I feel like a star and I'm sure Rachel's ready to kill me when I get back to Lima._

_All I've got left to do is wait for the ball to drop._

_And me hoping that the New Year comes with a kiss._

* * *

The video stopped.

All the Warblers in Blaine's room leaned back from the laptop, exhaling, not quite knowing what to say.

"Wow, they _are_ good," Blaine finally said.

"I told you," Kurt muttered, texting Mercedes on his phone.

"So on a scale of one to ten," Dwight began, mouth full of popcorn, "How screwed do you think the Warblers are?"

"Come on…" Wes rolled his eyes. "Maybe they were good. But that's their style, and we have ours. Maybe we just need to be a little less uptight—but everyone has their own approach."

"Yeah…" David crossed his arms. "Besides—they're not who I'm worried about. It's New Directions and Vocal Adrenaline that we'll be coming up against on Sectionals. We should focus on _them_."

"And you've seen Vocal Adrenaline…" Reed fidgeted, picking on a stray thread in his jacket. "They're also really good."

"But they're so heartless," Wes rolled his eyes.

Kurt finally looked up, wondering why there was sufficiently less crazy in the room than there was supposed to be. "Where are the Tweedles?" Outside the room, everyone was hearing odd sounds from the rest of the condominium, involving a lot of hustle and bustle of decorators, and the occasional evil cackling of identical voices.

"You don't want to know," Blaine shook his head.

Dwight, who had looked out the door, exclaimed, "Holy _crap_, is that a ball swim?" As he said this, there was the sound of wild riffs coming from what had to be a RockBand setup and the sound of someone testing a silly string can.

Shane, who'd also come to see, gasped. "Chocolate waterfall!"

"Get back into the room!" the twins yelled as what had to be jell-o slammed them both in the face. This was followed by an unceasing hailstorm of marshmallows.

Kurt dropped his face into his hand. Whatever was going to happen tonight was going to be ridiculous as it was shaping up to be the biggest kiddie party on the street. The Tweedles had woken everyone early and ushered them into their rooms, commanding them not to actually come out for a while as they would be setting up the party. After dozens of decorators and delivery men arrived bearing all sorts of food and furnishing and what had to be more laser lights than Las Vegas had, they were glad to.

As Shane wiped himself down, ducking the mallows, Dwight calmly turned to the room, jell-o dripping from his face. "David," he said in an unbelievably composed tone. "Might you hand me that thing next to you?"

David turned to the bedside table. As was customary for every Windsor who particularly valued sanity, they kept a Nerf gun nearby in case of Tweedle Attack. Blaine's was sitting on the bedside table, along with a full round of ammunition.

Sighing, David handed it to Dwight. "Thank you," Dwight said. And then he opened the door and charged into the fray, yelling across the house as he fired. "Bring it on, Tweedles! Say your prayers!"

"This means _war_!" the Tweedles yelled from somewhere outside.

David just shrugged, and his phone started to ring. He took one glance at the number and came to life. "I have to take this." He immediately hurried out the door. While the door opened, they saw a brief glimpse into Pandemonium as the "war" continued.

"What's with David?" Kurt asked, frowning.

"His girlfriend must've gotten out of surgery…" Wes said, shaking his head. "He's crazy about her. They've been together for five years. He's been spending all his free time with her while she's in the hospital. He's only here now because she told him go live an actual life for a change."

Kurt wanted to ask why she was in surgery, but felt that he'd pried enough into privacy after confronting Reed. So he simply said, "We should send him back to her. He should be there."

"Yeah well…we tried telling him it was all right," Wes looked worried, staring in the direction David went. He sat, fidgeting. "He hasn't really been himself after he heard she was in surgery …I'm actually kind of worried about him."

Blaine rolled his eyes and made the, "go on" gesture to him. Wes needed no second telling—he fled the room with a worried expression. Kurt smiled to himself and glanced at Blaine, who just gave him a, "I don't know either" kind of look.

"Alice!" came Evan's yell from outside. "Dwight's got your magic cookies hostage! Save the cookies, damn it! Save the cookies!"

"—so help me, I'm going to crush each and every single one—!"

"No, you stupid Knight—don't do it, man!" Ethan yelled like he was dying. "Think of the others! Alice, help!"

"Oh for the love of—" Kurt pushed himself out of the chair. "I'm sorry, if I may, I just have to stuff all those cookies down their throats."

"Please go right ahead," Blaine said helpfully, smiling.

And Kurt just smirked at him, squeezed his hand—which he had been holding for a while now—and left. Shane turned to his brother and smirked. "You two are getting really cozy, aren't you?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Blaine grumbled.

"You were _very_ cute onstage," Reed quipped with a grin.

"Hm…" Blaine just smiled to himself. "That was his idea."

"Well at least we know he likes you," Shane said smugly, leaning back onto his chair. "Logan doesn't have a chance even if he's coming to the party."

"That still worries me, Blaine…" Reed remarked.

The Windsor prefect looked contemplative. He shook his head a little. "Kurt said Logan was actually himself for a bit. He's been taking his medication. I suppose even if he does come along, he won't be doing anything. Be more like himself."

"What _is_ himself?" Shane asked. "Before or after he was messing with you, Blaine?"

Blaine glanced at his brother. "What's the matter with you?"

"I thought you were going to be okay," Shane mumbled. "Then I hear that he's back. I saw him during that big fallout with his dad—he's clearly still out of it. Even _you_ don't trust him."

"I don't," Blaine answered calmly. "I don't trust him either. But I trust Kurt. And I'm willing to at least avoid him tonight."

Shane huffed and leaned back onto the chair. "Well, fine. I just hope he knows how to take a hint after all this time. If that video doesn't tell him that he's got no chance—"

"What video?" Blaine asked.

Shane blinked and glanced up at him. "That…video I took of you and Kurt singing onstage at Radio City Music Hall." He smirked a little. "I put a copy into his coat pocket when Kurt and I met him yesterday. If that doesn't tell him to back off—"

Blaine's eyes widened fully as he leapt to his feet.

"_What_?" Wes exploded from the door, David next to him, having heard what was just said. "You gave him—Shane, what is the matter with you, man?" he grabbed Shane by the front of his sweater. "That's not going to make him back off, that's going to make him furious!"

Shane's smile was gone the moment Blaine got up. He turned white, staring at Wes. "What? But he—"

"He didn't need to see that!" David exploded. "Didn't you see how worked up he can get over things? And after he told Kurt that he loves him—"

"He said _what_?" Blaine demanded, grabbing at Wes.

"Backstage—before you performed—Logan dropped Kurt the bomb," Wes quickly told him. David was nervously running his hand through his hair. "Kurt didn't get the chance to answer—"

"Was that why Kurt went after him in the Park? To answer him?" Blaine asked, turning white, mind racing. _If Logan confessed and Kurt still behaved the way he did, did it mean that he—_

"No!" Shane exclaimed, leaping up. "I was there—I heard them, Kurt didn't—"

"No no, you have done _enough_." David pushed Shane down onto the chair. "I bet Logan's freaking out right now. What went in your head, Shane?"

Shane looked confused and flustered. "I—I was just…" He looked at Blaine desperately. "I thought he wouldn't flip out if he was medicated—I was just trying to help!"

"A fat lot that did," Wes snapped.

"All right, _enough_!" Blaine said, now looking angry for the first time. "Just cut it out, we don't need this. Seriously, this is getting ridiculous!" He looked at Wes and David. "Logan is _my_ problem. I'll deal with him if he tries anything. Closure's been too long in coming anyway and it's about time I told him off. What can he do anyway? Just…leave Shane alone, he didn't know what he was doing."

Shane buried his head in his hands, leaning over his knees. Blaine turned to his brother, looking as though he wanted to shake him, but as he gestured with his hands he just ended up putting them heavily onto his shoulders. Shane looked up, scared and white in the face. "Blaine—I'm sorry! I just—I wanted him to let you be _happy!_"

"Just—!" Blaine stopped and took a breath. He patted him heavily once. "Just…don't do this anymore, all right, Shane…?" He sighed and got up. He pushed past Wes and David and out the door. The two took one last look at Shane, who was staring after his brother, and left as well.

Shane watched them go and then leaned over on his knees again, cursing.

Silence in the room. Outside, the muffled sound of mayhem continued.

Carefully, a form knelt in front of Shane, putting his hands on his clasped ones. "Shane…"

The other boy looked up to see Reed looking at him. Shane just ducked his head. "…please don't look at me like that, Reed… You don't have to stay here, you can go with them."

"I don't want to," he said plainly. He patted his hands. "Calm down, all right?"

"I can't…" Shane whispered. "I'm always…I'm always screwing it up for him! Blaine…Blaine always takes the bullet for me. He's always the responsible one." He blinked away the mist in his eyes. "You know that if I didn't…if I didn't get so careless about my first boyfriend, Blaine wouldn't have had to come out to dad to cover for me?"

He leaned back onto the couch again, staring at the ceiling. "I watched him take the heat from the bullies that I couldn't help him with…just stood there and took it, everyone telling me my brother was a fag…they didn't know I was. I got mostly second-hand but Blaine snagged every foot in the aisle to send him tripping into his lunch tray…"

Shane shook his head. "And after he moved to Dalton, I had to watch while my brother just got brokenhearted. I tried to be there for him, but it's hard from another state. He would keep telling me that Logan was going to get better but as it turns out, he didn't. I thought they were okay, when he just stopped telling me things. All he told me was that the asshole got kicked out for…stuff he did."

He swallowed and added, "That's why when I came here, and then Blaine told me that they weren't together anymore and I asked why…" Shane shook his head. "I just lost my mind. All that happened and I wasn't there. In a _non-_bullying school of all places—how Logan gets away with this crap is beyond me. I just…I just wanted to get back at him and make him leave Blaine alone. …I just make things worse."

A pause.

"…I shouldn't have come along," he added.

Finally, Reed took a deep breath and sat next to him on the couch. He jogged his elbow to get his attention. "Maybe Blaine did what he did because he had to do it for himself too. Didn't you ever consider that?" He smiled a bit. "And maybe he didn't tell you because doesn't expect anything from you. Maybe he just wants you to be happy."

Shane sighed. "I can't be the brother that just keeps taking."

"If you want to do something for him, you have to let him deal with this," Reed said with finality. "Blaine told us once that he regrets lots of things. He let himself be chased away from the last school. He's fighting back here, because he likes where he is and where he wants to be. So if you really want to do something for him, you have to let him see this to the end—make up for what happened before."

Shane glanced at him for a long moment, then shook his head. He pulled his hands away from Reed. "I shouldn't have come… I don't help you either."

"What?"

"You think I don't notice…?" Shane smiled a little. "I know that the way I act around you, I make you awkward. I'm sorry. I just…I can't help it." He stared at him a long moment, until it got odd and they both looked away. "But I guess if I have to learn, I have to start somewhere."

Reed nodded slowly.

"…I'll be out by today, then." He checked his watch. "If I go now, I won't even have to be at the party. Leave you guys alone."

The smaller boy looked up. Shane nodded to himself. "That's the best course, I think." He stood up, and stopped. "Oh." He sat back down. He pulled out something from his pocket and tossed it to Reed. "Super late Christmas gift. Better give it to you now. I wanted to give it to you at the gala, but I got distracted staring at your paintings."

Reed smiled faintly and opened it. He let the wrapper fall to the floor as he unwrapped what looked like a large ring with something embedded in it. He raised it to his eyes. "…what is this?"

"Hold it to the light like this," Shane took his hands and brought the ring's glass to the sunlight at the window. In the floor in front of Reed, where the light shone through, was the projection of a Rembrandt, magnified through the glass in the ring.

At his surprised expression, Shane smiled. "A master's work for a master painter."

Reed stared at it, amazed. Shane smiled at him and released his hands. "Stupid present, but there you have it." He got up and headed to the door. Reed came to and looked up. "Shane!"

"Yeah?" he said, glancing back, hand at the door.

Reed stood still, hands clutching the ring, staring at him. Shane just smiled and turned to leave when Reed, finally blurted out, "Wait!"

Shane stood at the door, a little confused. He looked back at the boy standing in the sunlight, curls lit up. It made him want to smile like an idiot so he just bit his lip and glanced away.

Reed's heart was in pounding in his chest. "…could you…maybe stay for the party?"

That was a surprise. Reed hastily continued, "You started this Logan mess, right? Stay and finish it."

"Is that such a good—"

"It's what Blaine would have done."

Shane stared, then sighed. He smiled a little. "…okay."

Reed smiled nervously and nodded. "All right."

Shane nodded to him, smiling a little, and he left the room to go to his own. Reed looked down at the ring in his hands and, now alone, had a spazz attack, flailing to himself before flopping onto the bed with a thump. _What the __**hell**__ are you doing, Reed Van Kamp? _

* * *

"Kurt?"

Kurt looked up when Blaine came into the kitchen. The countertenor had Ethan by the front of the shirt, holding a cookie bowl away from him, while the other twin was being held down by Dwight onto the floor. All of them looked at him, blinking.

Blaine tried very hard to overlook the fact that there were cookies, flour, and eggs all over the kitchen, and tried not to mention to Kurt that his immaculate hair had a streak of that flour and that his cheek had cookie batter. He just smiled. "Can I talk to you outside for a minute?"

They all looked at each other. Kurt took the cookies and released Evan, hugging the bowl protectively before going to Blaine. He was _sure_ he heard Ethan whimper when he took the cookies with him but he ignored them. Blaine held the door open, but just when Kurt was about to step out, he stopped. He turned, tossed three cookies back—a loud squabble ensued—and followed Blaine, offering the bowl.

"Thanks," Blaine grinned, taking one. Kurt took one as well, and followed him out past the living room where plastic multicoloured balls were scattered everywhere. They sidestepped the ornamental neon light bridge over the chocolate-rum "pond" connected to the waterfall, and ducked past the sets of swings with rails topped by swirlypops in the hall.

Kurt marveled at how immunized he was to all of this at this point.

Blaine didn't say much—he simply took his hand and led him to the elevator. When the chrome-plated doors closed, he let out his breath and released him. Kurt glanced at him. "What did you want to talk about?"

For a moment, Blaine lightly drummed his fist onto the wall, looking contemplative. Then he said, "…is it true that…Logan told you he loves you?"

Kurt stopped eating his cookie. He swallowed and glanced up at him. Blaine stared back at him, only expectant, with no other decipherable emotion. "…yes," Kurt finally answered.

Blaine let out his breath, licking his dry lips and nodded somberly. "Backstage… before I went on?"

"Yeah. …who told you?"

"Wes and David."

"Oh…"

Blaine seemed to deliberate for a moment. At that moment, the bell sounded, and the elevator opened to the ground floor. He nodded to Kurt to follow him. The two of them walked outside, through the lobby, and into the street, where well-dressed people emerged out of cars and entered buildings with the same sophisticated air as they did.

After a moment, Blaine said, "It's…probably none of my business but I just—" He finally just let it go and looked up. "…did you tell him anything? In answer, I mean?"

Kurt shook his head. "No. Not yet." He sighed. "I tried yesterday." He glanced at him. "And it _is_ your business. He's got history with you. And not a good one. That's kind of what worries me."

"I'm just saying that while I understand that some people will get…attracted to you, he's just—"

"And I'm just saying that I have my own mind of the matter," Kurt said, arching his eyebrow delicately. "And that mind is…rather made up, as we speak." He glanced away. "Logan is just the way he is. And…I think he's trying. I've seen my share of people who are trying themselves to death, myself included. So he's…" He let it trail off and shrugged.

Blaine stared at him, a little surprised, and he lowered his gaze. "…right." He nodded a little. "Of course you would. You're kind of headstrong. You have every right to make up your own mind."

"Right…" Kurt nodded slowly. He glanced at him. "So…"

"No, I was just…wondering," Blaine waved it away absently, feeling rather crushed. Commiserating in his head had seldom been this bad. "Not a big deal."

"Blaine, anyone ever tell you that your face is so expressive that you could retell Don Quixote with your facial expressions?" Kurt raised an eyebrow.

"What?"

Kurt glowered at him. "It's a big deal." He flailed at him. "Your face tells me so." He walked up to him. "Look, do you want me to hate him _that_ much?"

Blaine stared at him, surprised. "No, I mean—not _hate_, just…"

* * *

"They are _not_ singing off the same page out there, are they?" Evan muttered from where they were peeking at the lobby doors, chewing on cookies. Ethan sadly shook his head, taking a piece from the cookie his brother held.

"This is _sad_, this is just…" David shook his head.

"What exactly is the conversation here?" Dwight asked, blinking.

"What Kurt is thinking is _Why does Blaine want me to hate Logan all that badly just because he's his ex even though he's trying to change now—does he want to get back with him or something?_" Evan said in monotone.

"And what Blaine is thinking is _He likes him and he was going to confess and damn it I was an idiot for thinking I was really going to be able to get Kurt to fall in love with me," _Ethan added in the same tone.

"Or something like that," they both finished.

Wes swallowed his cookie, looking disgusted. "Wow, these two need to get hit with cinderblocks."

"_Lots_ of cinderblocks," the twins agreed.

"Where are Reed and Shane?" asked David.

"Shane's in his room, getting ready to book town. Reed's in his room mumbling entire monologues incoherently to himself while buried under a pillow." Dwight blinked. "I think he's possessed. I tried to sprinkle holy water on him, but he just threw a pillow at me and told me to go away. I left a ring of rock salt around his bed just in case, so he doesn't escape."

"You are so lucky we like you, dude…" Wes sighed.

"Rock salt never hurt anyone innocent!" Dwight shot back.

"Would you _be quiet now_, I'm trying to eavesdrop here," snapped David.

"But they're slowly eating all the cookies as they talk," Wes whined to him.

* * *

At some point, conversation waned and the two were left with an awkward pause that just left both wondering what on earth had gotten into the other's head. Kurt, who was getting rather annoyed, finally said, "Why are we arguing about that guy so suddenly?"

Blaine stared at him. "I don't know, it seems pretty relevant right now considering you and I are…"

"…are…?" Kurt prompted expectantly.

"He's…" Blaine was sure Kurt couldn't actually be this off from the topic. "…he's kind of between us both, isn't he?"

All the other Dalton boys now gestured with their hands expectantly, waiting for their Alice to make the connection. Kurt just gave Blaine a rather narrow-eyed look of disbelief.

"He is…?" Kurt blinked. _What the…you really consider him as between us? Because I don't. _"How does that happen? The way I see him is completely different from the way I see you."

Though the Windsor boys were all but jumping as it came _that _close to Kurt actually confessing right then and there, the prefect just stared. "So you do just _like_ him, then? In spite of everything?" _I can't let him do this, I thought we really had something already!_

"I don't think he's a saint, but I think he needs to be given room to fix his mess without the rest of us hammering down at him. Is it wrong that I want to give him a chance?"

"This is painful, this is officially painful and I'm going to lock them in the pantry," Wes was halfway into the revolving door when the others grabbed him back.

"That's fine, then," Blaine said, looking at Kurt's expression and feeling anxious. "I'm all for him not flipping out half the time either. But…I really thought that you…" He stopped.

_I really thought that you would pick me._

He let out a long sigh and then put a hand on Kurt's shoulder. He smiled a bit as he said, "It's nothing. Whatever you decide, it's… it's really your choice to make. And I have to be happy about that."

Kurt gave him a confused look. "What…?"

"About Logan," Blaine said. "If…that's what you really want then…I'm just sorry I got in the way." He turned away and headed back indoors.

"Blaine!" Kurt followed him, now more confused than ever. "You're _not_ in the way!" He grabbed his hand, holding tight. "Whether he's there or not makes no difference!"

Blaine stopped, and glanced back to him. He seemed to consider for a moment, then smiled a little bit. "…it does to me." But he held the hand tighter when he saw Kurt's anxious expression. "Hey. Don't look at me like that." He smiled a bit more and went closer to him. "It's all right."

"Can we not fight before New Year?" Kurt asked, looking a little irritated, wanting to throw him off even as his heart went pounding away. His face didn't show it, but he was sure his hands did—they clutched at Blaine's with the tremor that could have been seen as cold. "This is ridiculous. I _made it_ to the New Year because of your help—I'd be in a dumpster in McKinley otherwise."

"I suppose…" Blaine smiled faintly, still holding his hands, wondering why they were so cold when they, when Kurt was really getting worked up, were usually warm.

"Yeah…" Kurt rolled his eyes. "For all we know, he might not even show up anyway."

_Oh… _Blaine only smiled at Kurt. _…I really think he'll show. After he sees that…he'll show. And then…game over._

* * *

"I am _this_ close to throwing an actual cinderblock at them," Wes muttered from the doors. "And it won't take me long to find one."

"They're holding hands, it's a good sign," David pointed out.

"Yeah, but they've been holding hands _since they first met_…" Dwight grimaced, feeling more like the reluctant "fairy godparent" than anyone else. He wondered sometimes why he let himself dragged into these things. "Some progress would be nice."

"Didn't he kiss him under the mistletoe, though?" Evan supplied.

At that, the others looked down at him, staring in shock. "When was this?"

"Before winter break, at school, Blaine's room, doorway," grinned Ethan, sighing like a mother. "It was the cutest, sweetest, snuggly-wugglyest grossness you ever saw in Windsor."

"We needed to see a dentist after," Evan added with a smug smile. "It was that sweet."

The others weren't sure on whether to look happy or completely grossed out, so Wes settled for a frown and said, "Why can't we go back to that…?" He flailed to the two outside. "Before Logan puts the moves on?"

"That's up to them," Evan said. "Unfortunately."

"Well we'll never get anywhere," David looked contemplative. He suddenly looked up. "Crap. They're coming inside. Quick! Elevator!"

The foursome immediately ran to the sole elevator that led to the condominium, running around the bend just as Blaine and Kurt re-entered the building. The dour of them nearly crashed into each other to swipe their thumbs at the pad—the twins had put in all their fingerprints so they could come and go as they please—before the elevator doors hissed open and they ran in.

The door hissed shut just as Kurt and Blaine came around to the elevator.

Kurt had yet to release Blaine's hand, and he decided that while he had this moment, he had to ask. "…Blaine. About…that time you kissed me under the mistletoe."

The other boy stopped and turned to him. For a moment Blaine looked awkward, but then he said, "What about it?"

Kurt walked up to him directly, throwing caution to the wind. "Did you kiss me because I was under some mistletoe or…" He swallowed and trained his eyes directly into his.

Blaine took all of two seconds to prepare a response. He pulled the hand he held, bring Kurt just one bit closer. When he looked at Kurt's lips, he didn't even try to hide it anymore. He held him there carefully, waiting for any sign of him pulling away, but received none. After a full seven seconds, Kurt turned red and lowered his gaze. That allowed Blaine to think a little more clearly. But he smiled slightly and released him. "…does that answer your question?" he asked gently.

"Very much, yes…" Kurt breathed automatically, turning his eyes to the wall and feeling relieved as sanity returned. _That…was so bad for the heart right there._

Blaine just smiled to himself. And because Kurt had been so forward himself, he decided to reciprocate, as the elevator slowly returned and announced its presence. He glanced to Kurt and said, "…maybe it would be safer if you stood by me during that party."

Kurt raised his eyebrows at this. Blaine just shrugged lightly with a smile and added, "You don't want to be in the middle of a crowd of strangers when the lights go out."

The elevator doors opened and the two walked inside as Kurt shrugged as well, hiding a smile in the corner of his lips. "…sounds all right."

What followed was the most unbelievably tense elevator ride upwards to the condo, but for some silly reason, the both of them were smiling.

* * *

The force of the music that came from the condominium was at a level when each bass pulse felt like a wall slamming into the skin. The prismatic lights in the room could downright blind a body, and this was after the lasers that leapt from wall to wall, traversing the expanse of the bodies in the massive condominium, each and every one having been forewarned to wear their best "childlike" outfit to fit the theme.

As a result, the Playground-Willy-Wonka-factory madness that the Twins had created was crammed wall-to-wall with gorgeous "kids". As Warblers and Dalton boys descended into the condominium by way of a special invitation—flashing their house badges at the bouncers by the elevator—so did the girls who were also invited, or were their dates.

Kurt had never seen so many beautiful girls in his life. Half of them were over five feet seven inches at least, and they were dressed up in knee socks, lacy dresses in petticoats, curly pigtails, or even shirts, shorts and suspenders—all of them a fleet of endless legs. The Dalton boys—after a semester of a predominantly testosterone environment—were extremely happy at the surroundings.

"Oh thank the _stars_…" Wes sighed as he sank into one of the gargantuan, microbead-filled pillow chairs that was made to look like a giant jellybean. He leaned over, taking a champagne-glassful of the spiked chocolate mixture that flowed in a river through the room. "After Tabitha ran off with Derek I was positively deprived."

"You are currently surrounded by a hundred gorgeous girls…and you're thinking of the Banshees' personification, Tabitha," David nodded slowly as though trying to make sense of it. "Okay…"

"And half the time, you're messing with Blaine and Kurt…" smirked Evan, who was drinking a bright green cocktail that turned red at the bottom, his immaculate clothes already mussed with the dancing on the floor. Ethan grinned, drinking the same type of cocktail as he said, "So yeah, basically, all you've got are us guys."

"I'm too invested with those two at this point," Wes complained. "If they'd only make an _effort…"_

"Their problem is that they like each other way too much," Reed said, shaking his head as he sipped his apple juice—it was the only thing he trusted himself to be drinking in this party. "They're most afraid of going too far and then ruining things. They don't think they can afford to ruin what they have and take a chance."

"Well it's a new year…" sighed Evan, looking to the TV screen, watching Times Square continue to go crazy. The clock was ticking. "At least, it will be in an hour," Ethan nodded.

"Already?" Reed asked, startled.

The music started getting even louder. Candy confetti was falling down from the ceiling as the cannons blasted with each five-minute mark. The two men manning the DJ booth looked disturbingly like the pair from Daft Punk. The massive widescreen that ran down one side of the hall flickered and changed displays. An air raid siren carried through the room, making everyone look up as a computerized voice said, "_One hour until the New Year._"

The place exploded into excited cheering and chatter. The music swelled, filling the room with pop music. Some of the guests started going to for the malted milk ball-shooting guns (the amount of candy arsenal in the room was appalling) and pelting each other.

It was at this point that after one particularly excellent volley from the guns and a few snippets of drunken singing from some Warblers, the elevator doors hissed open and admitted Logan Wright into the party. With the crowd so thick, the music so loud, that the Windsors didn't notice at once, and they didn't hear the other Dalton boys greeting him as he came in.

The lights flashed through the condominium and Logan walked in, smirking to himself as he looked around. Some of the girls cast appreciative looks at him as he came in, but though he smiled at them, he was not interested. His head hadn't been this clear in days. He knew what he wanted.

Logan spotted Blaine—he was with his brother, talking to him by one of the doorways that led to other rooms. He came close enough to hear what they were saying, but they were so wrapped up that they didn't notice him.

"I saw your bags—" Blaine said, loudly, to be heard over the music. "Why did you start packing?"

"I'm leaving right after the party!" Shane said loudly back. He smiled faintly at his brother. "I've done enough damage here. Going to go back to Colorado early and make more problems there instead."

Blaine looked concerned and confused. "Shane, if it's about the video—"

"No—no…" Shane held a hand out to him. He clearly had some drinks in him, but not enough to be lost or even considered too drunk. "I'm going. That's it. I'm only here because…well because an angel asked me to." He grinned.

Logan nodded to himself. So his hunch was right—it was Shane who slipped him the video of Blaine and Kurt singing together.

Blaine said, "Look, you don't _have_ to go—we might have overreacted—"

"Blaine, seriously," said Shane, shaking his head, alcohol releasing some inhibitions. "I can't keep doing this to you, or to Reed… I'm going to go home and be good. Be good and stop being such a freaking mess."

The thought of his brother returning days early to his charade for his father wasn't a pleasant thought to Blaine. "Look, you made one mistake—"

"_One_?_" _Shane started laughing like a maniac, scooping up one of the cocktails as a waiter passed. Blaine took the cocktail out of his hands, set it down on a nearby surface and pulled his brother off to presumably a safer room to talk.

Logan watched him go. He moved forward and picked up the cocktail the brothers had left behind, and then proceeded to find his target.

He found his quarry talking with the Hanover prefect, dressed in that same interesting manner—a blue turtleneck and what appears to be a gigantic, red, fur-lined hoodie that was so large that it had to be bunched all up around his shoulders, making him look like the kind of doll that girls loved dressing up.

Kurt was laughing at something Justin was saying—in relation to how the Stuart parade float once burned and smoldered for days on end as a casualty of war between Windsor and Stuart's notorious rivalry—and he looked up as Logan arrived with a smile. "Hey!"

Kurt looked amused. "Hey! You're…not in dress code?"

Logan wore one of the impeccable gray ensembles that owned the Parisian runways this season, and just grinned. "Sure I am!"

"Oh? As what? A political son?"

Logan pretended to be wounded. "Ouch…" he smirked. "No, actually, it should be obvious that I'm the big bad wolf. All gray and all that." He looked at the red jacket on Kurt and grinned. "Little Red Riding hood?"

"Just because you're taller than me…" Kurt rolled his eyes.

"Hey Justin!" Logan smiled, shaking hands with the other prefect. Justin smiled and raised his glass to him in response.

"You look well," Justin said. "Better than you did before!"

"I kind of do, don't I?" Logan smiled. "I feel great!" He looked down at Kurt and smiled at him. "Extremely!"

Kurt was a little surprised. "Well you do look better!" he voice broke just slightly as he tried to talk loudly over the music. Both Justin and Logan laughed. Kurt turned red and shoved at Justin.

"Here," Logan said, handing him the cocktail with a smile. "Wet your throat. If you lose that voice, the Warblers will get in trouble."

Kurt eyed the cocktail worriedly. "Uh…no, pass." He shook his head. "I have an extremely bad history with alcohol."

"Oh?" Logan blinked, intrigued.

* * *

"Blaine!" yelled Reed, running to him. Behind him, the lights flashed. Countdown came to thirty minutes. He slipped on some of the plastic balls on the ground and flopped onto the carpet. One of the Warblers sitting nearby said, "Reed, dude, are you okay?"

"Fine…" he brushed himself off. Blaine reached him, with Shane right behind him, and said, "Whoa, easy Reed. You didn't drink anything, did you?"

"No," Reed answered, shaking his head and his brushing insanely expensive pants off. But he looked at him with wide eyes. "I heard one of the Stuart boys say that Logan's in here already."

"What?" Blaine looked around quickly. He couldn't recognize anyone well through the flashing lights, music and all the bodies in the room. The party was going crazy and more people were coming in—and Blaine could see that some of them weren't Dalton anymore. He had no idea how they got in, but the Twins didn't do something soon, there was going to be some serious damage.

He pushed through the crowd immediately, looking for Kurt. He had thought that as Logan hadn't shown up for two hours since the party started, he may have changed his mind. Shane took Reed by the hand. "Come on, let's go tell the Twins that their party's going overboard." In his free hand, Shane held his hand-carry for the plane.

Reed spotted it easily as he used it to part the crowd. "You're leaving already?" he asked.

Shane only nodded. "Yeah. After this, I'm gone. But first I've got to get to the Twins, then I'll back Blaine up." He glanced back at him. "Then gone." He grinned.

"…are you _drunk_?" Reed asked suspiciously.

"No, actually—I had a few, but I'm good at holding my liquor—that's why I get the happy job of driving everyone home all the time. And believe me, you will lose count of how much puking can be done in a car."

Reed looked grossed out—and he slipped on one of the malted milk balls on the ground. Shane felt the tug of him falling and immediately reacted, turning pulling him up and spinning him right up against and catching his free hand, and they ended up looking as though they came out of a Fred Astaire movie.

Reed stared up at him. "…whoa."

Shane looked back at him, a little stunned. "Oh, I…I take up dance in my spare time." He shrugged quickly. Seeing that Reed was right up against him, he released him quickly. "Right. Okay. Sorry. The Twins?"

"Right, the Twins," Reed nodded hastily and the two headed off.

* * *

"_Fifteen minutes to the New Year._" The room exploded into cheers and explosions of conversation, people moving around, running to each other, preparing to face the new year. The feed on the widescreen revealed the throng in Times Square, watching the ball drop.

Blaine turned and found himself face to face with Logan. "Hello, Blaine!" said the taller boy, smiling a little. "Interesting party, even though it's getting out of hand." Around him, people continued to dance and party happily in the massive playground the Twins had built. It was just the two of them now, staring.

"So you're here too now?" Blaine looked back up at him. As a serious conversation, it was awkward as they had to talk loudly to be heard. They screamed over the din.

"I think you know why I'm here," Logan answered. He seemed unbelievably self-possessed. Or was it simply self-assurance?

"Where's Kurt?" Blaine asked coldly.

"He's with Justin, I haven't done anything to him," Logan said easily. "I haven't even given him any alcohol. Relax!"

"Think you'll understand when I say, no, I think I'll keep my guard up," Blaine replied giving him an incredulous look. "That's the only reason you're so focused right now. And Shane told me what he did."

"Ah…" Logan nodded, smiling. "I figured it was Shane who'd drop me a message that big. It was too ballsy a move for anyone in Windsor to do, actually!"

He was definitely back to his old self. That calm self-assurance was Logan without medication. It was fine as long as he stayed calm. It was only when he was angry that things got dangerous. Blaine had the advantage of experience as he treaded through thin ice.

"So now what are you going to do?" Blaine calmly gazed up at him. "You can't make him do anything. Even I can't. It's his life and he gets to choose."

"Well that's why I'm here," Logan sighed, looking around. "I came here as myself! Not as a drugged down version, not as a crazed wackjob! Just me! It has to be a fair game or nothing at all!"

"You see that's your problem," Blaine shook his head, moving up to him so he could be heard even over the noise. "You think of this as a game! You've always thought this is some kind of game! You did it to me and to…" He shook his head. "This isn't one, Logan. Do you even genuinely care about him? Because if you're just doing this to beat me…"

Logan closed his eyes, shook his head and started to laugh. "Why are we talking about this, in the middle of a crowded room, screaming?"

"Because then we can yell at each other all we want!" Blaine answered.

"Then if I'm going to scream it at you, I damn should—I'm not doing this to beat you! You both are going to be stuck with me! Even if he picks you over me, I'm not going to give this a rest!"

"Good!" Blaine retorted. "Because then I'll maybe consider you a changed man. He's trying to get me to believe it, but until I see it, I don't think you should be near—!"

"We'll see about that." Logan suddenly fled.

Blaine turned and ran the opposite direction. He had to find Kurt before the lights went out. Not to kiss him, or to do anything—but just to make sure that whatever anyone did that night, including himself, it was Kurt who makes the decision.

No one else.

* * *

"_Five minutes to the New Year…_"

"There!" yelled Wes, pointing to Blaine, who pushed through the crowd to them. "Blaine! Over here, man! Come on! Where the hell have you been?"

"Where's Kurt?" Blaine asked breathlessly.

"We haven't seen him," said Reed, looking anxious. "We saw Justin and he said he was with him, and then he left to go find _you_!"

"Where's Logan?" David asked loudly.

"He's here—I saw him and he's still around here somewhere!" Blaine looked around. "I have to find Kurt. It's almost that time."

"You _really_ want to kiss him for New Years, don't you, man?" Dwight stared at him. Blaine shook his head. "No. I have to make sure he _doesn't_ get forced into one."

The Twins suddenly looked up. "We better move!"

"Why?" asked Reed.

"Because we've set the lights to flicker like crazy at the three minute mark before complete darkness! If we're going to find Alice, we better find him _now_ or we won't find him at all!"

* * *

Logan stood in the middle of the gyrating bodies that danced to the music. The lights were beginning a pre-emptive flicker, slow that would gradually speed up. He looked quickly around for any sign of Kurt.

And then he spotted a bright flash of red in an oversized hoodie. He smile and raised his voice as he moved through the crowd.

Kurt looked up as the slim, gray body stood in front of him. In the flashing of the lights, the clothes looked like metal. Like the armor on a knight. Against his great height—he had to be at least as tall as Finn—Kurt looked up to meet a pair of intense green eyes that he recognized from the very first time in the choir room.

Logan leaned close to him and murmured, "Red isn't your color. You look like a painted rose."

Kurt ducked from such close proximity but said, "Well I think it's kind of nice."

"Blue is more your color," said Logan, smiling.

Kurt considered a little. "…blue is actually my favorite color. But red is festive and so here it is." Feeling a bit uncomfortable about that stare, Kurt finally said, "You…you look a little more like your old self, you know?"

"Is that good or bad?" Logan asked, blinking almost innocuously.

Kurt looked up at him, wondering. "I…honestly don't know."

"Well…maybe I'm finally making some progress," Logan smiled. "And you know…I can honestly say it's because of you."

"What?" Kurt almost laughed. He shook his head. "No, I think for once, you can have whatever credit you're giving me."

"Seriously," Logan smiled. "…do you remember what I told you backstage…?"

Kurt hugged his arms, feeling awkward. He swallowed. "Can't forget. …first time a guy ever… A guy ever told me he was in love with me." He gestured anxiously. "Can we not talk about this here? In the middle of the crowd?"

"Crowd's best place to talk…" Logan stepped closer to him. "No one listens."

* * *

At that moment, the lights began to flicker.

"Oh no…" the twins looked up as the lights flickered to a palpitating pace.

"_Three minutes to the New Year._"

The screaming reached a fever pitch. Times Square was going ballistic in the screens everywhere. The lights danced, changing color with each beat of light and darkness.

"Kurt!" Blaine cried over the noise. "Kurt!"

The Twins pushed through the crowds, determined to get to the control board at the DJ's station but there was simply no way through with all the pushing bodies. They had to turn on all the lights while they could.

"Evan!" Ethan yelled.

"Yeah?" his twin cried as they pushed.

"I think this party got a little out of hand!"

"Ditto!"

The Windsors were pushed apart as they ran in different directions, looking for their friends. David stood, torn between what he had to do and what he needed to do. He had a phone in his hand and he had to call Katherine for the New Year, but his friends…

A hand landed on his shoulder. It was Wes. Wes could find him anywhere. In the flickering light, his friend nodded. "It's okay, man. Do what you got to do. We've got this." And he ran off, hopefully to avert crisis. David swallowed, nodding to himself, and he fled to find an alcove, dialing Katherine's number as he did.

Dwight came tearing past Justin, who they'd roped into helping. "I lost Reed!"

"What?"

"I was hanging onto him like a minute ago! I lost him!"

Justin scanned the flickering hysteria. It was impossible. With the lights, the crowd, the color—there was no way that anyone would find Reed with his size. He would be on the ground by now, knowing him, making it all the more dangerous.

He pushed Dwight. "Go—just go!" He cursed mentally. _What the hell, Logan. What are you—you show up once and Windsor goes crazy!_

* * *

"_Two minutes to the New Year._"

There was a second wave of cheering. The foam started spraying into the room. Whatever the Twins had planned, no matter how the night went, they were definitely going to get into huge amounts of trouble for this party.

Justin was right—Reed _was_ on the ground at the moment. He got knocked back when the cheering began afresh. There were only two minutes of the year left.

Reed got kicked in the shins by someone unseen. He choked back a cry and struggled to his feet, trying to get his bearings. A sob escaped him—he felt lost.

"Reed!" a strong arm grabbed him through the dark and pulled him against a body, tight. "It's okay! I got you, I'm here. You're okay."

Reed was confused for a minute. "Shane?" He shakily held onto him.

Kurt pulled away, looking around at all the flashing lights. "I—I have to find the others already!"

Logan grabbed his hand and held it tightly. "It's okay—I'm right here! Don't worry."

"Kurt!"

The countertenor looked up quickly. "I think I heard Blaine."

"Did you?" Logan looked around.

Blaine ran into Justin as he crossed the floor again. "Have you seen either of them?" he asked as soon as he recognized his friend.

"No," Justin shook his head, looking around. "You'd think a guy as tall as Logan would—" he stopped. "—is that them?" He pointed to the direction near the windows.

* * *

"_One minute to the New Year._"

The screaming reached a fever pitch. Times Square was cheering. The ball made its way down progressively.

Kurt peeled his hands away from Logan. "Logan, Blaine's looking for me."

"Stop thinking about Blaine for five seconds!" Logan finally burst out, holding tightly onto his hand. "I want to be with you for one minute without having to listen to you talk about him!"

"Calm down, Logan!" Kurt snapped. "I thought you were okay now—why are you getting so angry?"

Logan swallowed and answered, "I'm not medicated."

"What?" Kurt stared. "Why?"

"Kurt!" Blaine called again.

* * *

"_Thirty seconds to the New Year…"_

"I didn't take them," Logan shook his head. "I wanted to be able to tell this to you again so you know I mean it when I say it!" He held his hands tightly. "I tried, I really really tried but I _feel_ when I'm with you. I thought it would be okay if I just tried, but it's not worth it."

Kurt stared at him, speechless as Logan continued, "When I'm numb I just don't feel happy or sad, even when you're there. You said it yourself—I didn't look like myself. This is me, Kurt—this is who I really am. And I'm sorry that I'm a terrible person when I'm not medicated, but the truth is—"

* * *

"_Twenty seconds to the New Year…"_

"—but the truth is this is the me that's horribly, ridiculously in love with you and I just can't do anything about it!" Logan clasped his hands.

Blaine reached them, hearing Logan's words, and he stopped immediately, staring.

Kurt stared at Logan without confusion or hesitation. He only lowered his eyes and shook his head. "…I know who you are. I know what you're like with and without medication."

"_Ten…nine…eight…"_

"The truth is…I want you to get better. You can be so freaking better than this! With or without medication! Whatever it takes!"

Logan shrugged, shaking his head.

"You don't have to be alone." Kurt stressed.

"I'm not." Logan smiled a little. "I'm with you." He leaned forward just as Wes came skidding next to Blaine. Blaine kept him back.

"_Seven…six…five…"_

Logan stopped, an inch from Kurt's lips. Kurt's hand was pressed to his chest, keeping him at bay. Kurt stared steadily at him, heart hammering in his chest. "I can't."

"Why?"

"…I love Blaine."

* * *

"_Three…two…one! **Happy New Year**!_"

* * *

Times Square erupted into a volley of deafening fireworks and brilliant lights. The condominium burst into cheering and screams of Happy New Year wishes. And all lights in the Brightman condominium died. Bodies pressed against one another, grabbing and clutching for New Years kisses amidst happy squealing.

In the chaos, Reed felt Shane hold him tightly against him. He felt scared at first, then just puzzled. "Shane…?"

"It's okay…" Shane whispered quietly in his ear in the darkness. "I've got you. I'll keep you here until the lights come back on."

Shane kept his hands around his waist, nowhere else. He simply remained there, keeping Reed from being jostled around, protecting him from being grabbed by the bodies in the room. Reed blinked in the darkness and clutched at him.

* * *

In the darkness of the foyer, it only by the lights of the buildings and the fireworks outside, David leaned against the wall, smiling gently. "…Happy New Year, Katherine."

A gentle voice on the other end, the respirator obstructing her voice slightly, answered, "Happy New Year, David. I miss you."

"I told you I could spend New—"

"No, David." Her voice sounded as though she were smiling. "I just miss you. Come back when you can. I'll be waiting."

David smiled. "All right."

* * *

Blaine stared at Kurt, the expression of amazement in his face unseen in the darkness. His eyes remained fastened on the spot where he last saw Kurt.

Logan released him slowly. He murmured in the dark, "…I know you do. …it was terribly obvious."

"I'm—"

"You'll have plenty of time to be sorry later, when I get better at this and get you to change your mind," Logan said, an effort to restrain himself more than evident in his voice. His fists were clenched in the darkness. "In the meantime…" His shaking hand reached out in the dimness and gave Kurt a slight push, sending the countertenor falling into another body.

All the lights in the Brightman condominium returned—all of them simultaneously—in a powerful hum of electricity. Confetti exploded into the air, golden and falling down over them. The crowd erupted into the cheering as a golden blizzard set down

Kurt looked up at Blaine, the one who had caught his arms. Blaine looked at him with a smile, and Kurt turned red at the sight of him. "Happy New Year, Kurt," Blaine murmured.

He smiled. "Happy New Year, Blaine."

From the DJ's booth, the Tweedles were holding the switch that turned on all the lights, having just jammed it to position. They looked relieved as they looked at each other.

Everything else vanished from Kurt's mind as he looked up to Blaine. "You…didn't happen to hear any of that, did you?"

"I actually did." He was holding tightly onto him, and the prefect leaned close amidst the deafening fireworks and answered, "…and I've loved you since I first saw you."

Kurt smiled, a faint flush creeping up his face as he remained close. He nodded, twining their hands together as Blaine kept him close. The fireworks went off in deafening bang, punctuating their words.

"_Finally_!" Wes all but flopped onto the carpet in relief. David walked back into the party, pocketing his phone and looking relieved and happy. The Twins leaned against each other, smiling. Fireworks erupted outside, in all directions, screaming into the air and exploding into shards of light.

* * *

Shane looked up at all the lights and sighed in relief. Reed, crushed against him, took a breath as Shane let go. "Okay. The sea of hormones has faded off." Shane smiled. "Go on."

"Okay…" shakily, Reed brushed himself off and glanced around. "We have to find the others."

"Yeah, let's go find everyone," Shane said, smiling up at him. "Happy New Year, Reed."

Reed smiled at him and nodded. "Happy New Year, Shane." He looked around and then saw a familiar blond head making his way to the elevator. It was Logan. "Where's he going?"

Dwight was about to ask that same question as he reached Logan, who had just stepped into the elevator. "Where's Kurt?" he demanded, holding his holy water sprayer.

Logan simply gestured to the party with a smile. Dwight blinked, glanced back, then turned back at him and frowned. "What's the matter with you?"

To which the prefect simply shrugged and said, "It's a New Year, Dwight. Fun's just beginning. He's the Hare to my Tortoise, but the race is still going to be a while."

"Hare…?" Dwight blinked, confused. "Wait, wasn't Blaine the Rabbit?"

Logan just grinned. The elevator doors hissed shut. Logan glanced to the mirrored walls and smiled to himself. He'd never felt more like himself in a long time. Sure, he didn't get the kiss—and Kurt admitted that he was in love with Blaine…

But after days of meds, he couldn't remember a time when he looked forward to making plans this much.

_So this is what it feels like to be comfortable in your own skin… _

His phone rang at the lobby. It was Derek.

"_Hey! Happy New Year, man! How'd it go? Did you get Windsor's "Alice" yet?"_

"Happy New Year to you too, mother. No not yet," Logan smirked. He sighed happily. "But you know me, I like a challenge when it interests me. I've done this once before. And you know what they say…it's easier to catch what's already tied down."

"_What_?" Derek sounded baffled.

He stepped out into the street, where the car was waiting. He smiled and glanced up at the party. "I can't wait to get back to Dalton."

* * *

The party was sufficiently insane enough that by the time police got to the area and hour or so later to clear most of the mob out—"What underage drinking? It's all chocolate and candy in here, officer."—even the Tweedles were looking a little sheepish. The condominium was nearly totaled—there was debris everywhere and it barely even looked anything like its previous grandeur.

It was only after it was very late into the night—or very early into the morning of the new year—that silence returned to the Brightman condominium. It was now a vast ruin.

"_Wow_…" Wes said, looking around at the mess. Only the Windsor conspirators and a whole lot of Warblers remained inside the area, examining the damage. He looked at the Tweedles. "Your parents are going to kill you."

"Happens once in a while," Evan agreed, smiling.

"True…doesn't last very long," Ethan shrugged.

"I didn't even get to kiss anyone!" Wes whined. "And those Victoria's Secret models never showed up!" He glared at them. "It's not fair!"

"It's just a New Year's kiss, Wes," David rolled his eyes. "Overrated."

"You have Katherine—of course you think it's overrated!"

"Fine, come here." He grabbed his friend by the sleeve and kissed the top of his head. "There! Happy New Year, Wes!"

The Warblers burst into hysterical laughter as Wes gaped at him. The Twins seemed to find this particularly ridiculous and just cracked up, falling off the jellybean chairs. They might have had a few drinks as well, and this may be the reason for their heightened madness.

"Where are Blaine and Kurt?" Reed asked, looking around and finding no sign of the two.

"They went out," grinned Evan. "I think they went up on the roof to watch the sunrise."

"What about Logan?"

"He left," Dwight snorted, eating one of the swirly pops as he patted his pockets for his phone. "Said something about the tortoise and the hare—"

"Not the Mock Turtle and the Gryphon?" Ethan asked with a grin.

"Pretty sure he said hare," Dwight rolled his eyes.

"Huh…" Justin looked contemplative, sitting on one of the tables while ripping open a pixie stick. "Well he's a tough nut to crack, that one."

"I really thought he was going to come and kill Blaine or something," Shane shuddered, shaking his head. "Looks like he just really wants a fair shot at Kurt."

"It hasn't _been_ fair since Blaine sang Teenage Dream," Wes smiled.

"Yeah, well it's not over yet," Dwight shot back. "When we get back to school, it's back to the old routine. New Year or not, I'm going to line my damn door in salt and you psychos can do whatever it is you want."

"_You're_ one of us psychos, Dwight," David remarked.

"I assure you, compared to you people, I'm perfectly sane."

"I cannot _wait_ for the day we see your psychiatric report."

* * *

On the cold, slate-gray rooftop, Kurt sat leaning against Blaine, asleep. Blaine, also half so, had his arm around him with some difficulty owing to Kurt's giant jacket. Their hands remained together, close proximity keeping them both warm. The sky had begun to change color.

As the first tinges of orange began to paint the sky, much the same way as Reed's paintings had done, Blaine heard Kurt murmur and roused himself from half slumber.

"…didn't get a New Year's kiss after all…" Kurt murmured, half asleep.

Blaine smiled and carefully nudged him with his shoulder, lifting his chin a little. "Hey."

The other boy blearily opened his eyes a fraction, "Hm…?"

Blaine smiled at his drowsy expression. "Nothing." He looked back into the view. The rising sun was going to get shattered by all the skyscrapers, but in the morning of the New Year, the city that never slept could've almost passed for peaceful.

"You know…" he said, "…it's technically still the New Year." He glanced down at the head on his shoulder.

Kurt blinked slowly, the haze in his eyes still there, but he smiled a little as he raised his head, leaning their foreheads together. "…technically speaking, yes."

Blaine was looking at his lips the same way he had done before. They were so close that they had the same breath and their eyelashes would have met. Kurt glanced at him through his veiling ones and murmured, "And so…"

"…technically…" Blaine agreed, "…this will count, wouldn't it?" He pressed his lips full against his.

They all lied when they talked about fireworks and kissing. A hundred thousand fireworks must've been going off all around outside when New Years had hit, but it was nothing like kissing Blaine properly for the first time at all. It was all touch, and breath, and warmth, and scent, and clutching hands that shook with restraint, with every thought evaporating like the mist when the first few New Year sunbeams pierced through the buildings.

Blaine released him just enough so that their faces remained close. He stared into Kurt's eyes with his heart pounding. Kurt looked back at him, without fear in his blue eyes. Their lips silently met again.

The sun rose over New York to the sounds of life returning to its paces, but Blaine and Kurt wouldn't be back to real life until the next half hour.

* * *

They stood at the airport, all of them, as Shane hitched up the backpack slung over his shoulder with a smile. He was the only one flying alone. Everyone else was taking the Twins' jet. "So I'll hear from you all, yeah?" he smiled. But he glared at Blaine. "Especially you. I'd appreciate an update every once in a while. But you can skip the parts about which bases you finally get to cover."

Kurt glowered at him, bright red, and Blaine smacked his arm lightly. "Stop it."

"Sorry, sorry," he grinned apologetically at the others. "Sorry for making all that trouble too. But at least I'll be out of your hair now."

"Drop us a line," Wes said, bumping fists with him.

"And remember to _think_, it's apparently very useful," David smirked.

"Come back soon!" said Evan, grinning.

"Or just transfer," shrugged Ethan.

"Into Windsor!"

"That would be _great_!"

"Sounds reasonable to me!"

"How about _no_?" Blaine glared at them. "I have my hands full with all of you already."

"I'll think about it, but I can't make promises…" Shane grinned, and then looked at Reed, who stood just blinking at him. He smiled. "It was really nice getting to know you, Reed." He extended a hand.

Reed stared at the hand for a long moment. And then he just went ahead and decided to go for a whole hug. Shane was a little surprised and turned bright scarlet. Coughing sounded from the rest of the assembled as an epidemic of snickering sounded.

"Move…" Kurt said, earnestly pushing them off to a different direction, glowering. "Move, give them some room, they have to talk."

"Wah?" Evan whined. His twin pouted. "But we—"

Kurt glared pointedly at them, and when it didn't work, he took out a piece of cookie from his pocket and crushed it in his hands. The boys followed without complaint, Dwight grumbling about haunted cookies and how they were all under the spell of its ectoplasmic goodness.

Reed pulled something from his bag. It was a small roll of paper in a paper tube. "Here."

"What's this?" Shane asked, even as he opened it. He saw a big splatter of red, green and yellow, but it swirled through the canvas. "I didn't know you did modern art."

Reed just smiled. "It's for one of my new sets. I'm going to paint people as I feel about them, painting the music I thought best fit them. This one…" he turned a bit red, "…is you."

Shane burst out laughing, looking at it. "It's crazy! I like it!" He smiled at him. "Reed, thank you. For everything, I mean. I know I freaked you out, but you…you put up with me."

"You do grow on people," Reed supplied with a smile. He paused before adding, "And I'll miss you."

Shane's smile softened and said, "…I'd tell you the same, but the magnitude of the "missing" part is kind of exponential in comparison to yours."

Reed ducked his head, blushing. "Listen, Shane…"

"I know." Shane smiled faintly. "…you don't like me the way I like you. It's silly, isn't it? Falling this hard so fast? But you make it so easy I just can't help it." He grinned. "Don't worry about it. I don't need you to answer me. I'm content just looking."

Face heating up, Reed swatted at him, only to miss and nearly tripped over his own feet. Shane caught his arm without missing a beat, pulling him back up and then releasing him. Reed blinked. "You're really good at that, you know?"

"I suppose so." Shane grinned. He looked up at the terminal screens. "Well… this is me." He turned back. "Goodbye, Reed. See you again sometime."

Reed smiled and waved. "See you."

Shane gave him one last hug—it lasted longer than was generally normal. And Reed's hands trailed over his arms even as Shane pulled away. The younger brother stepped back and waved at the older one. "Bye, Blaine! See you on vacation, I guess. Come home sometime."

"You going to be alright?" Blaine called back, a little worried.

"Nothing I haven't already handled! Bye!" Shane waved and hurried off to board, clutching the painting.

Reed stood there, watching after he disappeared, for so long that Kurt walked up to him and patted his cashmere-covered shoulder. "Hey. You okay?"

There was a pause. And entirely without warning, Reed grabbed onto Kurt and started crying. "Hey!" he let the fact that Reed was getting tears—and possibly snot—all over his Armani a once-in-a-lifetime pass of forgiveness and patted him. "Why are you crying?"

"If there was a word for it, I'll tell you—right now I _can't_," his friend answered through chokes. "I don't know why! I feel like an idiot! For heavenssake, Kurt, slap me or something, don't just stand there!"

David and Wes looked a little scared at that. Kurt rolled his eyes. "It's all right…take it easy…"

"I can't _wait_ to get back to Dalton," Reed sighed, interrupted by sobs. "Everything was so _simple_."

"There, there…" Kurt hugged him, and shrugged at the others who were staring in shock and askance. Dwight gave them an I'm-surrounded-by-crazy-people expression.

"Well, people!" said Evan brightly. "Guess it's time to book New York and head back home."

"All the way back to Warbler Land," nodded Ethan.

Kurt, still hugging Reed, looked up at Blaine, who smiled. "I don't know about you, but I'm all New York-ed already."

"Great. When we get back you can start getting ready."

"What for?"

"My parents want to see you."

* * *

_On the next episode: All the Windsor boys land at Dalton only to find that their Alice has to be in Lima for one more day. And so they decide to bring the crazy, and Blaine, to him for a change._


	17. Explorers

_Hi I'm C Coulter, your author for this fic._

_I once again want to thank each and every one of you for your continued support and encouragement towards this fic. It's really all still so surreal to me and I can't even believe it's barely been a month. It feels as though I have undergone months of happiness in the time I've spent with the people who read my little piece, and I want you to know that I read all of your messages. I wish you all knew how happy I am right now, I wish you all could feel this gratitude I have towards each and every one of you._

_It's time to head back to reality, but all's not well in Warbler Land. The Knave does not do well scorned. He's rallying the troops, and preparing a different sort of counterattack. Windsor's best asset-its ability to be incredibly unusual-may be its biggest flaw in this battle._

_I really hope you enjoy this next episode...I will take a short break after this... as I mentioned in my cpcoulter tumblr, I would like to just regroup and get myself collected. All this talk of Ouran is getting me really down and...well...those who have read the LJ post will understand._

_Thank you, everyone... I love you all very much. I promise the hiatus won't take long, I just need to breathe. But I love all of you, thank you._

_I hope you enjoy this ep._

**_(I do not own Glee)_**

* * *

**Dalton**

**Episode 17: Explorers**

* * *

Knock. "Kurt?"

No answer.

Knock. "Kurt…?"

Still no answer.

Carefully, Finn pushed open the door and peered into the white and navy room, cautious for any sign of half-dressed boys that had thrown him for a loop the last time he entered his stepbrother's room. Fortunately, the only sign of life came from the breathing lump under the lush comforter on the bed.

Kurt had arrived early—or late, depending on what you thought of the time—last night. The New Year had barely been out when he appeared on their doorstep, looking tired from the flight but unbelievably happy. He hardly said anything more than "hello, Happy New Year", "I'm back", "I'm going to my room and then I'm going to faint", and "good night" before he went in and was never heard from again. His dinner was left uneaten, which was fine for Finn as that meant he got third helpings.

It was already past ten am, and out of a request he could not refuse, he now had to wake him. Finn crept silently over the carpet, standing over Kurt. He shook him carefully. "Hey. Hey, Kurt?"

At his touch, Kurt suddenly sat up in bed, pulling from under his pillow a huge Nerf gun, now aimed directly at Finn's face.

"_Whoa_! Don't shoot! It's me!" Finn leapt backwards instantly, almost to the wall.

Kurt blinked blearily, saw that it was indeed his stepbrother and lowered the gun with a roll of his eyes. "Geez, Finn, I told you, don't just barge in…"

"I knocked!" Finn protested. "Twice!" He frowned at the Nerf gun. "That's twice already, why do you _keep_ that thing on you?"

"Force of habit… At least I didn't actually shoot you this time," Kurt rubbed the sleep from his eyes. "What do you want?"

"The girls want to see you outside," Finn grumbled as he went out of the room.

Kurt watched him go, confused, then down at the gun on his bed. He shoved it back under his pillow, rolling his eyes. Windsor was starting to get to him. And what would the girls want with him now? He pushed himself up from bed and picked up his phone from his bedside table.

_Just got back to Windsor. Everyone else is moving back in—it's crazy again. When are you coming back? – B_

Kurt couldn't have stopped smiling even if he tried. He answered,

_I'll be back by tomorrow. If you miss me so much, come visit. – K_

He smirked to himself, possibly unaware of what he may have just done, and put the phone back onto his table. He rose and began to attempt looking less bedraggled, tugging with him his primping kit crammed mostly with the presents he'd received from Reed.

It was still cold and he hugged himself as, after a while, he went downstairs. Shrugging on the new McQueen trench that the Twins had given him for Christmas, he said a bleary "good morning" to his family as he passed them at the kitchen. The front door was open, and as he stepped out, he stared.

The girls stood there with cold stares, arms crossed. Rachel was staring hard at him. Mercedes and Quinn were raising eyebrows. Tina looked at him with suspicion. Brittany looked as blank and expectant as ever, but Santana was looking at him with the barest trace of a questioning smirk on her face.

"What?" Kurt asked, staring at them.

No answer. They just kept staring. Mercedes, on the other hand, held up her phone that still had one of Kurt's messages on the screen, and pointed silently at it without so much as changing expression.

Kurt blinked at the phone, and then rolled his eyes with an exasperated sigh of surrender. "…Yes, it's true."

There was a pause of wide eyes that lasted only half a second before the girls started screaming, leaping as one and subsequently tackling him to the floor. Finn, who was behind Kurt in the living room, stared in confusion. "Uh…should I be worried about this?"

"No, Finn, just call the morgue; I'm going to kill them all right now for getting stains on this coat!" Kurt shot back.

The girls were too happy to care. All taking at the same time, the words "New York!", "Radio City!", "presents!", "party!" and above all, "You _kissed_ him! You actually kissed him!" were the most obvious.

"We're so proud of you, boy!" Mercedes gasped. "I called it, I called it!"

"So are you going out with Blaine officially?" Rachel asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Is he your boyfriend now?" Brittany asked unhelpfully.

"Did you make out?" Santana asked seriously. "Did you use tongue?"

Finn gave a barely perceptible start. "Hey wait—_what_?"

"What was that about Kurt kissing someone?" Burt demanded from the kitchen.

_Oh dear god._ Kurt leapt up, pushing the girls out of the door. "Nothing!" he called back, pushing them all out. "Nothing—! We're leaving! We're leaving now!" He glowered at the girls who were still snickering and talking. "Just get—_shh_!—out! Get out!" He yelled back just before Finn could update Burt, "We're going out for a while!" And went out, slamming the door shut.

He glowered at the girls and motioned for them to quickly move towards his car. "Go—go there, now!"

"Where are we going?" Mercedes asked, confused and amused.

"Are you really going to kill us now…?" Brittany stared.

Kurt rolled his eyes so far that they almost didn't resurface. "If we're going to talk about this, can we do it in a range far away from my father and his shotgun? Like Breadsticks?" He gestured to his Navigator quickly. "Besides…all the stuff I brought home from New York for you guys is in there."

Santana stared. "You had me at Breadsticks. Let's go."

* * *

_I'm Kurt. I recently transferred to Dalton Academy._

_I just came back from New York City for the New Year with the boys of Windsor._

_To say that it was eventful would be the biggest understatement since someone asked me if Lady Gaga was "the one who liked weird clothes"._

_But out of all the things I took back from New York there's just one that topped the rest:_

_I sang at Radio City Music Hall._

…_all right, fine. I got to kiss Blaine. Stop reminding me—I need to stay collected._

* * *

If Dalton's multitude of statues and ornaments had enjoyed their time in peace—then they were well aware that time is over.

_POW!_

Windsor was rocked as a door in the second floor blew out nearly right off its hinges, smoke pouring. Blaine, who was passing in the hall, barely looked up from his clipboard as the said door blew out behind him. Without so much as looking up, he picked up the nearby fire extinguisher and tossed it to the boy in the lab coat that ran out the broken door. "Welcome back, Drew."

"S'up, Blaine," the boy answered just as casually as he ran back into his room.

Blaine nonchalantly checked off his name from the list as he continued walking down the hall. Reed ran out of his room and tripped over the carpet. With a sigh, Blaine helped him up. "Walk, don't run…" he reminded him for the hundredth time.

"Have you seen the first—" Reed stopped and smiled happily as Blaine automatically handed him one. "Thanks!" he went back into his room.

Blaine stopped for a moment, realizing that Reed had gone into the room that he and Kurt would now share. In spite of himself, he smiled at the thought of Dalton's two most infamous fashionistas wreaking havoc in a single room. The Twins took this opportunity to accost him, draping their heavy arms over his shoulders.

"Rabbit," whined Evan, "Where's Alice? Isn't he coming back yet?"

"We do have names, proper ones," Blaine answered calmly as he continued looking down the clipboard.

"But we miss him!" Ethan whined. "We've got no one to play with!" With absolutely no mind for personal space, he patted down Blaine's pockets and snatched out the other boy's phone. "Have you heard from him yet?" he asked, flipping through messages quickly.

"Yes," Blaine snatched back his phone, glowering at the twin. "He's not coming in until tomorrow. Why don't you go bother Wes and David?"

"Wes went with David to visit Katherine, they won't be back for another half hour," Evan pouted. "What are we supposed to do until then?"

"It's not like Kurt will _be_ here in half an hour to satisfy your boredom even if he were so inclined," Blaine punctuated the statement with another tick on the clipboard. "Go do something productive—you're supposed to be grounded anyway."

The cataclysmic party in Park Avenue had reduced the condominium to shreds and even beings as almighty as the Twins had to do their share of downtime. When their parents heard of the damage, they were soundly confined to Ohio for the next month and their limousine had been confiscated. Their platinum cards were also revoked—but rumor had it that the Twins kept an engorged stack of cash with them somewhere in their room especially for these occasions.

So whether Dalton liked it or not, they would be stuck with the Twins. And so would Blaine. "This _is_ productive!" Ethan protested. "We're not bothering anyone else!"

"You're bothering _me_," Blaine said pointedly, waving his pen at them. "I need to finish this—Howard wants to know who's already in today."

"Let us help!" Evan immediately grabbed the clipboard and his twin bumped Blaine away as the two flipped through the sheet. Evan merely pointed to names in silence and his twin automatically checked it as they proceeded over it. They went through to the second page when Evan would say, "No, this one is not in—roommate is—" and the twin would immediately make the correction.

Blaine stared as the two finished the check in under fifteen seconds and tossed the clipboard back to him. "Now we're bored again," Evan grumbled.

"How can you possibly know who's in the dorm already?" Blaine demanded, looking at the list.

"We know everything," sighed Ethan dramatically. "And we're friends with the Caterpillar. Now can we please go see Alice? Surely even _Lima_ will have something more interesting than having to watch everyone unpack."

"Leave Kurt alone," Blaine snapped the pen closed. "He's got to recover."

"From being kissed passionately on the roof deck?" Evan grinned as Ethan pretended to swoon into his arms. At the stunned expression on Blaine's face, the two burst into hysterical laughter that sounded so evil that people in the hall peered out of their rooms. Dwight looked out of his room with sprayer in hand.

Blaine clenched his fists and then took out his phone and dialed a number.

"_Blaine?_"

With magnificent calmness, he said, "Hello, David. How's Katherine?"

"_She's doing better… We're just about to go and let her get some rest. Why, what—"_

"I'm about to very methodically maim certain people. Can you come back to Windsor?"

"_Ah…Twins driving you crazy?"_ There was some confusion and Wes sounded on the phone, "_If they want to go visit Kurt, we want to come with._"

"What?" Blaine stared. Evan whipped out his arm in the, "see!" gesture and leaned on his twin, smirking at Blaine.

"I'd like to go too," Reed said amicably, peering out of the room again.

"We are _not_ going to go see Kurt!" Blaine snapped. Heaven knew the amount of trouble it will entail if he allowed them all to go back to Kurt's house after the last time. Kurt's report had been appalling and quite frankly, he didn't want anyone jumping into Kurt's bed anytime soon.

"_Oh please, like you're not pining over him_," Wes scoffed.

"You don't want to see him?" Reed asked, wide-eyed.

Blaine looked startled. "Of course I do, I just—"

"Great!" Evan exclaimed, pulling him down the hall.

"Settled!" Ethan agreed, taking the other hand and pulling him down the hall. "Besides, we saw the message."

"What message?" Blaine demanded.

"The one where Kurt said, "if you miss me so much, come visit"," answered the twin simply. He high-fived his brother in triumph as Blaine groaned.

Reed happily jogged alongside them, saying into the phone that was now out of Blaine's reach, "We'll come get you from the hospital?"

"_No, David brought his car_," Wes answered. "_We'll follow you."_ He immediately hung up.

Evan yelled back, "Dwight! Keep an eye on the old place! We're going to go see Blaine's boyfriend!"

Dwight stared from his door. "Hey wait—I thought Kurt was his boyfriend?" he cried.

"He is!" Ethan yelled. "Totally made out during New Years!"

All the boys present in the entire floor stopped and turned to them. "_What_?"

Blaine was glad the twins were holding onto his wrists, because then he would've flown at them. In an attempt to retain some dignity, he said, "Fine, we'll go to Kurt's but could you all try to dial it down a little? They're not used to your brand of crazy."

"I don't follow." Ethan blinked.

"I mean try to act relatively normal."

"Which is…?" Evan raised an eyebrow.

"Anything you're doing right now, do the _opposite_?" Blaine was not prepared to handle Kurt's parents with this kind of entourage. If he was going by himself, it would be all right. But there was just no telling what the others would do. He had terrible images of broken windows, exploding pans, flying marshmallows and what was likely Kurt's father's shotgun aimed at them all.

"Hey—Hey I'm going with you!" Dwight said quickly, chasing them down the stairs.

"Why?" asked Reed, surprised.

"Maybe if I go back to the source, I can somehow break the curse on Kurt!" Dwight said with that manic gleam in his eye. "If I go with you to Lima, I can finally end the curse and there'd be everlasting peace in Windsor!"

As Reed gave Dwight a baffled look, Blaine rolled his eyes.

_Everlasting peace. In Windsor. Sure. Your Apocalypse is more likely, Dwight._

* * *

Similarly, the rest of Dalton began to repopulate. The fortunate ornaments and carvings in Stuart House were far less beaten by time and teenage madness than that of Windsor, and they welcomed its illustrious occupants back home.

Having arrived far earlier than anyone else and already looking impeccable from where he sat cross-legged on one of the chaises in the common room, Logan looked down at his own checklist, which resided in an iPad. Unlike Blaine who walked around the dormitory doing checks, it was the Stuarts who approached their prefect to tell him that they've arrived.

Logan smiled at each of them and greeted them as they approached him, and he ticked off their name in the list. He was in perfect condition again, as far as Derek could tell when he arrived.

"Well," he stood in front of him. "You look…normal."

"Best compliment I've heard all day," Logan said immediately, smiling at him. "Welcome back to Hell. The same quarters or did you finally decide to get a roomie to torment?"

"I'm captain of two school varsity teams—like hell I'm going to give up my single," he dropped down onto the chair next to Logan's. He studied his friend with careful scrutiny and said, "…you really look different. Well—not different, more like…old times."

"Really," Logan smirked to himself as he looked down at his list. "How so? I certainly feel rather comfortable…"

Derek's eyes widened. "…you're not on meds."

"No, I am not," Logan smiled, looking at him. "And it feels fantastic. Like I'm in control again."

Derek dropped his head to his palm, sighing. "Look, man, I don't think—"

"Exactly," said Logan bluntly, getting up from his seat. He was walking towards the great glass windows that looked outside. "You do not. And neither do I when I'm medicated. And now that I'm not, my thoughts are rather clear. Don't worry, Derek—I haven't had a meltdown or an explosion, I think I'm doing rather well. But if it makes you feel better, I do keep the stuff around just in case I have the urge to actually strangle another human."

"It _doesn't_ make me feel better," Derek grumbled. "But since you haven't actually done anything…"

The doors to Stuart flew open with a crash, making the boys in the hall jump about a foot. A figure in white and black, shirt tail hanging and without a tie, wearing dark glasses, was standing there with a dramatic pose.

"I'm back, you sorry bastards!" he yelled through the hall, making the other Stuarts wince and glare at him. He stalked—he never could simply walk, that boy with the gleaming oak-brown hair in waves—as he went in. Derek rolled his eyes as the firecracker entered the common room.

Logan barely batted an eye as he looked at his list. "Welcome back, Julian." He checked the name "Julian Larson" off nonchalantly.

The boy stood in front of him ramrod straight, then made an exaggerated bow that would've made a court jester proud. "I'm back! Filming just wrapped—I have returned to the gateways of the best education Ohio can offer me…" he gave him a pained smile.

"Man, take off those glasses," Derek got up and snatched them off his face, earning a brown-eyed glare. He threw them back at him, but Julian wasn't particularly rattled. As far as things went, he and Derek generally got along anyway. Julian turned back to his agent who was hovering by the entryway. "Send my things in, then you can leave."

"Fine—but don't forget to look the script over for the next—"

"Hey!" Julian snapped his fingers, frowning. "I just wrapped _one_. I'm on a break. And that means no shop talk until at least three days, hm?"

The woman with the black hair frowned at him and she brushed off the sleeves of her suit as she glanced around the surroundings. "Fine. I'll contact you again in three days. Don't get into trouble, Julian. I don't want to see another tabloid headline."

"We'll keep him in check, Carmen," Logan faked a perfectly respectable smile from where he sat, and it convinced the woman to leave. Julian kept up his bright, plastic smile until she was gone, and then whirled around and sat next to Derek.

"And after a two-month absence…" Derek smirked. "Why are you even in Dalton? Ramsey should've made you hit the bricks."

"My grades are dazzling," Julian answered coolly, checking his Sidekick. "My long-distance study assignments returned with gleaming marks that would make a valedictorian weep. And please, Ramsey would never let me leave—having an honest-to-gosh celeb in the school is always welcome. But I'm happy to be up to speed in terms of events. I'm sorry I missed the Brightman party. I could've locked your ex in the pantry for you, Logan."

Logan frowned at him, then at Derek. "What have you been telling him?"

"Everything," Derek answered, texting one of his many girlfriends. "When you started conveniently forgetting your medication, I decided a little backup might be necessary. So I kept him up to speed on what you've been doing."

"And so you get Jules…?"

The newcomer pretended to be wounded. "I'm hurt, Logan! Does our friendship of two whole years mean nothing to you…? I honestly did grow to hate you so much less when you're not being such a violent psychopath."

"Very funny," Logan put down the list onto his lap. "You were hardly around those two years. You're always on location."

"I was missed? _Gasp_! I'm moved," he rolled his eyes and looked at Logan. "Seriously. You and 'no meds' don't actually go together unless in the form of a police report. That Hummel kid must have your boxers in a knot." But he fell quiet when he received a truly menacing look from Logan. Then Julian knew that the matter was not a laughing one. A little chilled, he sat back.

Satisfied with the response, Logan rose and went to the great glass windows of the common room that looked out to the rest of the school. "Hmm…" Logan frowned slightly as he looked out the window. "Now where do they think they're going…?"

He watched with intense green eyes as the small flock of Windsors exited their house from the distance. They were distant, but not so distant that he couldn't tell who they were. He could recognize the blond twins anywhere, and between them they dragged Blaine.

Logan considered his information: that the Brightmans were bound within Ohio limits after the massive party destruction they caused. And they would only need Blaine if they were going somewhere where they actually needed him, and where else would they go with him but…

"Derek?"

"What?"

"I'm going out."

His friend looked up. "What? Now? Whoa—!" he caught the iPad that was tossed to him.

"Finish checking for me," Logan added as he slipped on his coat. "I've got an important errand to run. I'll be at least a few hours off."

"You're leaving us in charge?" Julian asked, blinking.

"Not you. Derek." To which his friend looked rather pleased. Logan walked to the door and stopped. He smiled at his two friends. "And Julian? Try to be _nicer_ to the others? We _are_ a zero-tolerance no-bullying policy school."

To which Julian protested, "I don't bully people—I'm just lordly! Vast difference! It's really up to them how to take my personality!"

"Yes, well—you're a jerk. And when even _I_ call you that, that's saying something." Logan slammed the door shut.

* * *

"…and then we just…sat on the rooftop of the building. We wanted to see the sunrise. Well, actually it was Blaine's idea. I ended up falling asleep, I guess, but I woke up just in time for it. And we figured that since it was still the new year, it would technically pass as one if we…" Kurt trailed away and then primly cleared his throat as he fixed the napkin on his lap. His face had been red for the duration of the story. "Well anyway. There it is."

Santana was listening spellbound as she snapped breadsticks between her fingers. "…wow. I had no idea that you took _that long_ to get _one_ actual kiss—and you _still_ haven't put out. That's got to be some kind of prude record." Quinn pushed her elbow off the table and rolled her eyes at her.

Kurt gave her a narrow-eyed glare. "Well it might shock you, Santana, gentlemen actually do exist in the world."

"You say gentlemen, I say holding out," Santana said with a grimace, putting on the L'oreal lipgloss that Kurt had given her.

"I thought it was really sweet of him, Kurt," Tina said, smiling at him, patting. She was also already wearing the Chanel perfume that was her present. "We're really happy for you. I mean, it's really about time."

"And his present for you _was_…appropriate," Rachel gave him a huge smile that told him how happy and supremely envious she was at the same time. She toyed with the buttons on her Marc Jacobs jacket. Kurt preened a little with a smug smirk, "_That_, I will agree with."

Mercedes sipped her iced tea and admired the jeweled pendant from Cartier she was wearing. "And your friends seem to like spoiling you. Are you sure there's no catch to all this, that they're not roping you into one of those rich people secret societies?"

"The catch is I have to live with them," Kurt answered with a pained smile. "The trick is learning to adapt."

"Yeah, I heard Finn telling Sam that you shot him with a nerf to the face last time," Rachel snorted.

"And this morning," Kurt sighed.

Brittany was hugging her present—a gigantic teddy bear that required her to not actually be sitting in the booth but on a chair at the end of the table—and said as she leaned into its velvet plush, "For a monster house, everyone sounds so nice…"

Kurt remembered that all Brittany saw before was the Silent Hill décor, but he couldn't bring himself to contradict her when it was partly true.

"What _I_ would like to know…" Santana suddenly said, leaning forward, "…if that Logan guy can swing it with a girl? Because he sounds hot."

"Are you sure that's such a good idea?" Quinn finally said, "because from what Kurt describes, he sounds a little bipolar."

"He's working on it," Kurt snapped. "But…Quinn's right—no, Santana."

"How about those twins? Never actually had twins before."

Kurt sighed, exasperated. Over Santana's "What? Just because he's the one in an all-boys school doesn't mean _he_ gets all the fun…", his phone vibrated and he took it out and saw a message from Blaine.

_Where are you right now? –B_

Puzzled, Kurt answered:

_Breadsticks with New Directions. Why? – K_

_Just confirming. Apologies ahead of time. Expect company. – B_

"Kurt—Pardon me for interrupting this riveting account of your now-existent love life, but what were you saying about that group from New York you saw?" Rachel had a pad and a pen out, scribbling furiously. "It sounded a little familiar or something."

"Logan said they're Harold Kramer High School," Kurt replied, raising an eyebrow. "Their captain's name is Tom whathisname. Their group is Pure Energy?"

"They sound like an energy drink…" Tina murmured.

"They might have had a few considering how they were moving out there at central park…" Kurt said thoughtfully as he remembered.

"Uh huh…" Rachel scribbled down the name. "Not that we have to deal with them until Nationals, but it's always good to look up the competition. Possible weaknesses. Strengths. How to best crush them under my heels."

Kurt rolled his eyes and pretended to fan her. "Before that, can we deal with Vocal Adrenaline? Don't forget that you ran little Sunshine off on a rail all the way there."

Rachel glared at him. "It was a _moment_. I don't _do_ that anymore; I even let Lauren Zizes on board." She primly folded her hands on her lap.

"That's because she wasn't a threat to you," Mercedes rolled her eyes.

Tina then sat up, putting down her fork as she looked at her phone. "Mm! The boys are asking where to meet us."

"Good, tell them that their presents are strictly for special occasions only—the thought that they'd wear Cavallis and Fords to their daily roughhousing is enough to give me heart failure." Kurt stabbed his salad.

"Boy, you're the only one who wears those clothes at school," Mercedes said sensibly.

"Oh!" Rachel finally looked up. "I finally remembered! Pure Energy! I saw this video of them before at Nationals. They performed three songs—they split the girls and the guys, then one big production number with all of them as a third. They brought a whole _limousine_ onstage. And confetti cannons. They've placed for the past _two years." _She leaned back, staring at her plate. "…they were…_good_."

"Rachel—_hello_?" Kurt said, snapping his fingers in front of her eyes. "Your neurosis is showing. We won't even _get_ to Pure Energy until we beat Vocal Adrenaline!"

"What is 'we'?" Santana pointed out with a snort. "We'll have to beat you Warblers too. And you'll have to beat _us_."

Silence on the table.

Mercedes shot her a look and turned to Kurt. "Hey. This is _not different_ from Sectionals. When we went in there, we were sure that one of us was going to lose, and we managed to keep tight, right? Same deal for Regionals. Round two, that's all it is, okay Kurt?"

Kurt smiled and touched fingertips with her. "I guess you're right." He raised an eyebrow at her. "No punches pulled?"

"You better be ready for a damn knockout," she agreed.

The doors to Breadsticks opened. Tina blinked. "That must be Mike and the other guys."

They were guys, but they were not from New Directions. Kurt's eyes landed at the pair of identical boys that stepped in and looked around. Their eyes target-locked on Kurt in unison. And in a cry that rattled Breadsticks—"_Alice!"_

Kurt's eyes widened to their full extent as the Tweedles swooped down on him. It was a bad idea to sit at one end of the booth as they now scooped him up and hugged him between them. "We missed you!" they cried as the McKinley girls began to panic, alarmed.

"It's been less than thirty six hours!" Kurt protested, struggling.

"Whoa!" Wes and David came running as people were starting to stare, the two of them quickly pulling the twins away from Kurt—and they ended up getting tangled with one Tweedle each and all on the ground. Blaine immediately stepped in as they fell and caught Kurt's arm before he fell with them. He smiled. "Hey."

"Hi," Kurt breathed, smirking at him but nevertheless relieved. "Impeccable timing.

"Well, I try." Blaine looked at the stunned girls at the table and nodded to them, beaming. "Hello, ladies."

"Hi, Blaine," they answered, in varying ranges of amusement and confusion.

"Get off me, Evan!" Wes grumbled, pushing the other boy off. The Tweedles scrambled to their feet and dusted themselves off, smiling brightly at the girls. "Hello, talking flowers!" they chorused.

"Why do they call us that?" asked Santana.

"Why do they call you Alice?" Mercedes asked Kurt.

"Why are you even _here_?" Kurt demanded to the whole lot of them.

"Why—" Dwight popped up from the plants that separated the booth from the one next to it, making Rachel and Quinn jump, "—are you three girls always dressed in those outfits every time we see you?" he demanded to the Cheerios.

All of the assembled gave Dwight a look that questioned his sanity. Dwight gave them an equally narrow-eyed look. "Do those uniforms have something in connection to Kurt's curse, seeing as how he wore it during the game too? Is this some weird cheerleader cult? Because I've seen all the references towards spirit stick worship and I must say that it's highly suspect."

After an aghast pause, Mercedes gave Kurt a sidelong glance. "Are you _absolutely sure_ that _he's_ not in a cult?"

"At this point, more asylum inmate than cult," Kurt answered without batting an eye.

An awkward silence.

"So!" Reed piped up from behind Blaine. "Ice cream? Do they have ice cream here?"

A pause.

"Yeah! Okay, ice cream! Sounds great!"

And all the boys pulled a table over and sat. They were quite a crowd, especially as the talk began and then the football-turned-glee-club members arrived to join them. They took up so much room at Breadsticks that people were wondering why there were so many young people in there.

"Dude, that is so lame, why can't he be the MVP if he was the only one who saved your butts during that game?" Finn asked, brow furrowed as the Windsors told them about the last football game.

"Don't ask me, ask the league—that's how it works," Wes shrugged. "Seriously, David manned that goal like he was possessed."

"Only because you had to keep staring at the cheerleaders," David retorted.

"I can't blame him for that—I've seen those Banshees in action," Puck grinned. "They were _hot_." At the sight of the Cheerios shooting him murderous looks, he said, "What?" He frowned. "They were! With the skirts, and their—"

"—gold spankies?" Wes said, looking up with a huge grin.

"Yeah!" he and Puck actually high fived at that one, and the Cheerios all rolled their eyes, scoffing.

"—but you'll be surprised how much couture is out there for plus-sized girls," Reed was telling Mercedes. "Seriously, I have more than a few pieces that I can give you!" He looked at Kurt. "We should have totally thought of this sooner."

"I know!" Kurt laughed, grinning at Mercedes. "You better make room in your closet, Mercedes—our combined forces will engorge your closet."

"Please—I need some," Mercedes laughed. "Glad to know that you've got someone to hang out with there, Kurt."

"Ugh, this madness is going to get so much worse when I move into the same room with Reed…" Kurt remarked.

"But I always thought that unicorns were white even when small…" Tina was telling Dwight, blinking.

Brittany supplied, "I have this little unicorn I got from the fifth grade and he's white…when he grows up he'll stay white…"

"No no, everyone knows that unicorn foals start out golden, then they fade and turn silver when they grow up!" Dwight answered sensibly.

"Do you have one…? Can I have one…?" Brittany asked.

"Seriously, I don't get that either!" said Artie. "Are unicorns mostly girls or what? If they only approach girls, then they must be guys, right?"

"Right," Mike agreed, confused.

"You've got it all wrong!" Dwight said, exasperated. "Honestly—it's like this…"

"But seriously, your biceps are hard as rocks," Ethan said, poking Santana's arm as Evan did the same to Quinn. "You girls must really be crazy strong."

"Among other things," Santana threw him a flirty glare and paused. "Wait a sec—which one are you again?"

"Evan," Ethan grinned.

"Right. So do you want to ditch this place and go somewhere else?" she smirked. Quinn could barely react, she was occupied in keeping Evan's curious hands from poking at her curly ponytail.

The twin grinned. "I would, but I'll only go if my brother gets to as well."

The expression on Quinn's face was priceless and Santana made an "oooh…" face, absolutely intrigued.

"But they should always put their strongest contenders out front!" Rachel protested to Blaine from the other side of the table. "And if just happens to be one particular star out of all the rest, then so be it!"

"But that's exactly the point of the duels," Blaine told her patiently. "Whoever everyone else deems the stronger contender will go on to lead."

"But it comes down to a popularity vote! What if, say, the person was amazingly, unbelievably talented and she—I mean _he_—just simply is disliked by the rest of her—_his_—peers and is therefore unpopular?"

"Oh, I think we know someone like that…" Blaine muttered to Kurt, who smiled.

"Glad to see you're all getting along," Kurt told him.

"Better than the alternatives…" Blaine smiled, squeezing his hand from under the table.

"No!" Wes was saying to Mercedes. "There is just no way in this green earth that you can possibly like tater tots more than I do! It's just not humanly possible!"

"Try me!" Mercedes raised an eyebrow. "I dare you."

Wes immediately called over the waitress. "Tots, my good woman! For me and the lady!" He turned back to Mercedes. "We'll see about that."

"Amateur," she snorted. "Sit down before you hurt yourself."

"God, it's like the cookies all over again," Kurt shook his head.

"Wes may look like that, but he's a teenage boy and he needs to eat," Blaine said. "You know he prowls my room for my stashes of food and pretty much cleans the place down?"

"You and your weird friends…" Kurt made a face at him, grinning.

"Oh so the pot is calling the kettle black…" Blaine smirked, leaning to him. They got very close, smiling, until the table suddenly jumped and they looked up.

Finn was rubbing his knee, pretending as though nothing had happened. "Sorry. Accident." He coughed and returned to sports talk with Puck and David.

Kurt glared at him, but Blaine just laughed.

* * *

Burt opened the door, fully expecting his son to be there, but was surprised to find a tall blond young man standing there. "Oh, hello, Mr. Hummel!" Logan said with a smile that won parents everywhere over. "Is Kurt home?"

"Oh—Logan, right?" Burt blinked, startled. "No, actually, Kurt isn't here. He went out with some friends of his from his old school."

"Oh…" Logan frowned a little, looking worried. "I had hoped to see him. Just giving him some reminders about school."

"Well, he should be back soon!" Carole said, coming up beside Burt and smiling up at the Stuart prefect. "Come in, come in—it's really cold out."

If Dwight had been around, he would postulate that one of the cardinal rules when dealing with vampires or other assorted evil beings was that you should never invite them into your home. Logan smiled as he entered. "Thank you, Mrs. Hummel. Oh, then, I suppose I could simply just tell you about the reminders, so I won't have to stay long here. You have a lovely home."

Burt smiled a little and made a short response of gratitude as he sat in front of Logan in the living room. "So, you go to school with Kurt…" Carole handed them some hot chocolate.

"Thank you," Logan told her, smiling, "and yes, I do. We don't share the same dormitory—he stays in Windsor and I stay in Stuart. But I'm the Stuart prefect and I thought it would be all right to make sure that he's assimilating all right, since he's new." He smiled a little bit more. "And I'm his friend."

"Yeah, you're in the Warblers with him, right?" Burt said, scrutinizing him. "We, uh, we saw you perform and you won during the Winter Festival."

"Congratulations," Carole said kindly.

"Thank you, but really…" Logan laughed softly. "I have a lot to thank Kurt for."

"Really?" Burt blinked. "What makes you say that?"

Logan looked down at his hot chocolate. "It's…actually a little embarrassing. But the truth is, Kurt's really…well he's really good at just being himself. And…I've had some personal issues, recently…and he's helped me through them a lot."

Burt looked a little surprised. "Oh. So you're…also…" he gave him a questioning nod.

And Logan laughed. "Yes, I'm gay." He considered, then added, "But that hadn't been the issue. Dalton is a very non-discerning school in these matters. What I meant was that…I'm not the most popular person in school, and Kurt seemed to just look past all that. I think he's…" he trailed off and then just smiled faintly. "I think you have a really great kid, Mr. Hummel."

Carole looked at Burt with a smile and Burt smiled back a little at her. "Well…thank you, Logan, I think he's…he's pretty amazing too. Couldn't have asked for a better son."

Logan smiled and then laughed. "Well! Getting to the point. I just wanted to come over and tell Kurt that usually after a new student has been in Dalton for as long as he has so far, there will be an academic assessment that will go on. To see if the student is handling the studies in Dalton well. Of course, I imagine in Kurt's case it would only be a formality—but I just wanted to make sure since he seems to have been given quite a bit of work. It's taking a toll on him."

Carole looked concerned. "Toll how?"

Logan blinked. "I heard from the boys that Kurt has been losing weight and he's buried in the work. If he was having any difficulty, I wanted to see if there was anything I can do to help. It's probably not the work itself, but just the load. That, and Warbler practice…and the fact that he doesn't have a particularly quiet dormitory…"

Burt sat up, frowning, now looking concerned. He leaned forward, eyes narrowed. "What do you mean? Losing weight? Quiet dormitory?"

Logan smiled faintly. "Well…nothing against them, of course… but Windsor is known for being a rather…rambunctious house. The boys there can bounce off the walls a little and get into some misdemeanors…"

Carole and Burt looked at each other. They remembered the troop of boys that had invaded the house the morning Kurt had left for New York. They seemed all right, but then they had to wonder how they even all got in there to begin with.

"Please don't tell Kurt I said anything," Logan begged. "I know he's very attached to the boys at Windsor. I'm sure it's all harmless. I wouldn't want to stress him any more than he already must be." Logan smiled. "But you know, I think all of these matters would have been covered by Blaine already."

"Why would Blaine cover this?" asked Carole.

"Oh. He's…the Windsor House Prefect, of course," Logan blinked. "Just Acting, right now. The original House Prefect is currently confined in a hospital. He's taking over duties."

"Well…we actually haven't seen Blaine since the Festival," Carole admitted. She was certain that he wasn't among the boys who picked Kurt up for New York.

"Oh? Odd…I thought he would've contacted you about all this…" Logan seemed to consider. Then he cracked a smile. "But I'm sure he must be taking care of Kurt, seeing as how close they've become."

"Yeah about that," Burt leaned forward and said in a low tone, "Have you, uh…heard anything? About those two recently? Because he's all Kurt talks about sometimes."

Inwardly, Logan's veins turned ice cold. But his smile remained perfect. "Well, I saw them in the party at New York together. I'm usually not one to gossip but I think they've developed somewhat of a…mutual understanding. Kurt seems very taken by him and…vice versa."

"I get it…" Burt leaned back. "Right, good to know."

Logan laughed. "The party was pretty wild. Kurt enjoyed himself. But don't worry, while I was with him, he didn't have any alcohol."

"There was booze?"

"Free flowing," Logan answered with a laugh. "The Twins throw infamously wild parties." Then he seemed to realize what he was saying. "I meant… Well, generally it was available to those who wanted it, but—"

"All right, Logan—I think we get the picture," Burt responded with a frown.

Logan looked uncomfortable. "I hope I didn't get Kurt into any trouble here. I assure you, he's been in great behavior all this time."

"Yes, and I believe you, don't worry," Burt said with a nod.

Logan glanced at his Rolex and said, "Well…I really have taken up too much of your time. I should be going. Please tell Kurt that if there's anything I can help him with about the academic assessment, I'd be willing to help." He got up.

Burt rose and shook hands with him. "We'll tell him."

"Thank you." Logan smiled at him and Carole and headed for the door.

"Logan!" said Burt suddenly.

"Yes, sir?"

"What House did you say you were in again?"

"Stuart, sir," Logan answered, beaming. "And proud of it."

"All right. Just wanted to make sure."

Logan opened the door, and immediately found himself face to face with Kurt and Blaine, who were just about to come inside. Instead of being startled, he smiled even more at the sight of them. "Oh hello," he said smoothly. Behind them, the other Windsor boys were waiting in cars—Wes and David in David's Porsche and the twins and Reed in the Twins' Rolls Royce (their "other" car), and Dwight in his Impala—and they all sat up at the sight of him.

"Logan?" Kurt blinked. "What are you doing here?"

"I was actually coming to see you," Logan said, smiling. "But I've already talked to your parents about the academic assessment."

"Wait—what academic assessment?" Kurt asked, frowning.

"Blaine didn't tell you? After a month or a bit after that, new students need to undergo academic assessment to see how they're adapting to Dalton studies."

Kurt looked at Blaine with wide eyes. Blaine answered, a little anxious, "I was going to tell you when you got back. I didn't want you to stress about it until you got back to Dalton."

"Kurt?" Burt's voice sounded from behind Logan. Logan stepped aside and let Burt approach. Burt came up to his son and said, "We have to have a little talk." He looked at Blaine and nodded. "Blaine."

"Hello, Mr. Hummel," Blaine smiled.

"Hey, Mr. H!" yelled the twins from the car, waving.

"Hello, boys," said Burt, giving them a small wave. He looked at Logan. "Thanks for coming, Logan. We'll take it from here."

"Sure, thank you, Mr. Hummel." Logan flashed him a smile, and gave one to Blaine. He was met with his ex's cold eyes, to which he just smiled more. The Stuart prefect brushed himself off as he walked back to his car—a Jaguar—got in, gave Kurt a smile and drove off.

The Twins looked at each other, then looked to the backseat. "Reed. Get in David's car."

Reed saw the looks in their eyes and did so without questions. The moment he got into David's Porsche, the Twins yelled, "See you in Dalton, Blaine!" And the pair immediately roared off after the Jaguar.

Burt turned to Blaine and Kurt. "Both of you, inside. We need to talk."

Kurt and Blaine looked at each other.

This didn't bode well.

* * *

_On the next episode: Logan has completed his set of merry men with Derek and Julian. Now it's time for the Windsors to rally for the sake of their own leader-with Blaine and Kurt getting into some hot water, everyone will have to pull their weight in the plan, as if Kurt does not pass his academic assessment, he'll have to kiss Merry Windsor goodbye and fall to Stuart hands. _


	18. Jumping Hurdles

_Hi I'm CP Coulter your author for this fic._

_I would like to once again thank each and every single one of you for your outpour of words and support that just continue onward. I'm so sorry that the hiatus took so long, but with the holidays afoot, there just wasn't that much time to write even though I wanted to quite badly. But your support has been above and beyond the call of duty. I can honestly tell you that the amount of amazing things that happened lately was due to everyone's good intentions, support and well wishes. _

_This fic has come so far...eighteenth episode. With fan art, fan-fics, soundtracks, fanmixes, videos... All of it, from the wonderful support given by the best fandom in the world. People even showed me that the actual Dalton Academy Warblers from Glee have taken notice and have read or seen this fic. I continue to thank Telly Leung, Luke Edgemon, Dominic Barnes, Aaron Page, Riley Martin, Riker Lynch, and the indefatigable Pavarotti for showing interest in this piece that I've made, which the warm and wonderful fandom has nurtured and caused to bloom. Thank you, Warblers. You have simply made us love you so much more._

_The Klaine fandom-no, the **Kurtsies**, all of them, no matter what ship-have been wonderful, amazing beings who need to know how wonderful they are. And my gratitude is exponential. There is no way to quantify it. _

_A word: A person wrote to infraredphaeton, about comparing SPAH to Dalton, and it has hurt her and me. Please, everyone, as a person who gets so accused to ripping things off, this is hurtful to me, and I feel bad that one of my favorite fellow ficcers had to be accused of it. Let's all maintain this wonderful community that we have-I have never seen a fandom so warm and welcoming as the Kurtsies. And I will be forever grateful for their changing me "for good"._

_This is me, hoping that we continue on. My gratitude to you knows no bounds. I could not ask for more. This is already too much already._

_I very much hope you enjoy this episode._

_(**I do not own Glee**.)_

* * *

**Dalton**

**Episode 18: Jumping Hurdles**

* * *

_I'm Kurt._

_I recently transferred to Dalton Academy._

_I fell in love with a boy named Blaine, and for the first time in my life…I was loved back._

_But it's still so far from over. Dancing together onstage…holding each other through fireworks…kisses during the New Year…_

_But it's time to come down from that cloud._

_And it looks like my dad is meeting us when we land._

* * *

Blaine and Kurt sat on the couch in the living room, the former with his hands on resting on his knees, the latter cross-legged and leaning back, with a hand splayed on his face. Burt sat across them both, leaning forward with his elbows braced on his knees. Carole sat on the cushioned footstool, between the battle lines, looking at them both. Finn sat in the entryway towards the kitchen, devouring a massive sandwich and pretending to not to be paying attention.

Burt looked straight at the pair, unblinking, as Kurt drummed his fingernails against the armrest of the couch, looking at his father expectantly. Blaine remained still and attentive, waiting, as Carole glanced apprehensively at them all.

After the long moment of silence, Kurt finally asked, "…what do we have to talk about?"

Finn craned his neck from the kitchen, tilting back his chair so it now balanced on the back legs.

At the silence, Kurt added, "Is there something Logan told you _other_ than assessment? Because I really don't think you need Blaine here if it was just that."

"No, Blaine has to stay," Burt said with finality.

Carole looked at them all apprehensively. Blaine glanced slightly at Kurt, who met his glance for a moment, before both turned back to Burt.

"Now I'm going to ask you two some questions, and I want you to answer it with the truth," Burt said, looking at his son and Blaine. "And I'm serious. Because you both know that I don't have that clear an idea of what goes on while Kurt is in boarding school, or who he's with, or what he's doing. I want the truth, and when you answer me, it better be the truth or there's going to be trouble."

Kurt blinked and nodded slowly. Blaine agreed, understanding this entirely. Kurt's fingertips rested just against his knuckles on the couch, looking as though they landed there only by accident, but neither made the move to take the contact away.

Burt studied them both a moment longer, then leaned a bit more forward, motioning for them both to come closer, the way someone would when he was about to impart a secret. The two looked at each other, a little puzzled, but also leaned forward, Carole doing the same. Finn leaned further, looking at them, trying to hear.

Burt said, "There was a party in New York? A big one?"

The two nodded.

"It was…one of those wild ones? There was booze?"

Kurt hesitated, glancing at Blaine, but Blaine nodded. "Yes." He was starting to slowly get the scope of what Logan may have said.

Burt now looked at his son. "Did they offer you any?"

"Yes," Kurt swallowed.

"Did you drink?"

"No," Kurt said, looking at his father directly with sureness in his tone.

Burt looked at Blaine. Blaine replied, "He didn't."

"Did you offer him any?"

"No," Blaine said quietly.

"I told him I can't drink," Kurt immediately added. "He told the others not to give me some."

Burt nodded a little and carefully held up his hand to his son, telling him to be quiet for a moment, and that the addition was unnecessary. Kurt sat back slightly but remained close as his father turned his eyes back to Blaine.

"Your dorm. You boys get into trouble a lot?"

A pause. The two looked at each other, not sure how to take this question. Burt added, "I'm talking serious trouble—do you boys get sent to the dean?"

Kurt paled, remembering Ramsey's office. Blaine closed his eyes and exhaled. "…yes."

"How often?"

"I don't have a number, but it's from time to time," Blaine responded.

"Any of this go into your permanent records?"

"No," said Blaine immediately.

Nothing ever went into a Windsor's permanent records. The pranks were often morally harmless (if not physically) or chalked up to house rivalry. They made sure that the only people who did things worthy of suspension (breaking into off-limits places, leaving campus without permission, causing serious property damage) were powerful enough to curb the attack by sheer influence if the heat came. The Twins were the prime examples.

But the very main reason was: they made sure that there was never enough proof to strike. Never. Even Stuart and Hanover abided by these unofficial codes. This was the only reason all hell had not swept down onto the Houses from the administration.

Burt nodded slowly. After a moment's pause, he gave Blaine a direct look.

"Are you going out with my son, Blaine?"

Kurt's entire body tensed as Carole's eyes widened, staring at her husband. Finn leaned so far back that he was on the verge of falling as he stared.

Blaine tensed only very slightly, and he did not break eye contact with Burt for a moment. When he finally turned away, it was to look at Kurt, who looked at him with an emotion that people have yet to name—one of great apprehension, mixed with dread, and then hope.

And then he simply put his hand fully over Kurt's on the couch, warm fingers twined together. Then he turned back to the father with a small smile, saying very carefully, "To be perfectly honest, Mr. Hummel… with his and your permission…I would really, _really_ like to."

Carole was smiling almost beyond her control. Her hands clasped together as she saw the absolutely stunned expression in Kurt's face, eyes all lit up with Blaine's words. Finn, shocked, leaned back so far that balance failed him and he—and the chair—fell with a bang. Everyone looked up for a moment, but he sprang up, scarlet. "I'm okay! I'm fine." He brushed himself off.

Kurt's breath caught in his throat when Blaine then turned to him in askance. Clasping his hand tightly now, he quickly turned to his father, saying quickly, "Yes! I'm saying yes," he added to Blaine, then to his father, "I'm saying yes, and that's it."

The apprehensive, expectant look in Kurt's eyes and the way he clung onto Blaine's hand, almost made Burt smile. "Now, Kurt—wait a minute—"

Kurt flustered, looking as though he would get angry. "Dad, whatever Logan said to you—!"

"Okay, calm down," Burt said firmly, holding the free hand that was flailing. "Calm down. Let me talk, all right?"

Kurt sat back a little, keeping his hand and Blaine's together. The other boy put his hand over theirs to calm him.

Burt sighed. "The truth is, Kurt—I didn't actually have to ask. You…made it kind of obvious how you saw Blaine." As his son turned lobster scarlet and Blaine raised his eyebrows, "And to tell you honestly, after what happened in McKinley, you just moved to Dalton so fast and we didn't know how you were going to handle it. Carole and I got worried, and because we didn't see you for so long, when we _did_ see you again—the difference was obvious."

"And you looked wonderful at the Festival, Kurt—you looked so…_happy_," Carole said, beaming. She glanced at Blaine. "Especially after you came back from the dorm."

Happy as he was to hear this precursor to approval, Kurt wanted to die right then and there at the last statement. Blaine was trying—and failing very badly—to stop smiling. But Burt turned to Blaine with a look that implied a serious note.

"Look, I don't know what this Logan kid has in for the both of you. He painted a one hell of a picture for us. But if most of what he's saying is true, then I can't just brush it off either." Burt glanced at Kurt, and back at Blaine. "I trust Kurt, and if he trusts you, then that's how it's going to be. But if anything happens to my son out there, Blaine—if I hear about him so much as _crying_ about anything—"

"Believe me, sir, if anything happens to your son on my watch, I will present myself to you to be shot at," Blaine said with a small smile.

"Dad—" Kurt began, giving Blaine a sidelong narrow-eyed look, but his father shook his head.

"I didn't send you there to get expelled," Burt said with finality. "I love you, you know that, and I'm just doing my job here as your father, and that's making sure that you have a future. I'm happy with what makes you happy, but if you don't pass that assessment, you're moving to the Stuart house."

Kurt paled. His father softened. "I know you can do it. You've always been able to do whatever you made up your mind to do—that's just the way you are. When you said you would hit that high note in that song you wanted, you fought for that and you did it. That's all it is now, and I know you'll do it again."

Burt looked at Blaine. "And Blaine, while this is me basically agreeing to this…relationship, let me get one thing clear; I don't care _what_ base you think you're on—there's only two sides to the field right now: You being alive and you getting hunted down by me if you push Kurt too far. Got that?"

Deep crimson, Kurt gave his father a disbelieving look. Blaine put on all the assumed gravity he could muster at this moment and replied, "As crystal, sir."

With a groan, Kurt dropped his face into his hand, and Carole stifled a laugh.

"Wait—so…we're fine with all this, right?" Finn said, looking in from the entryway, brow furrowed. He saw Kurt turn to him with an expression he once saw before—when he questioned the feasibility of flying three hundred live doves for the wedding. He frowned back. "I was just making sure!"

"It's fine, Finn," Carole said to him before smiling at Kurt and patting his knee. She murmured to him, "We're very happy for you." She glanced at Blaine and nodded, and the soloist returned it with a small smile.

Burt cleared his throat with a pointed look. "All right. So…that covers it. Kurt, you stay right there, we have something else to, uh…to cover. Blaine—you better head back home—"

"Kurt, I'll see you in the dorms tomorrow," Blaine told Kurt with an encouraging squeeze on his hands when he received Kurt's expression of "you're going to leave me here with The Talk?". He laughed a little. "You'll be okay. You'll be fine. I'll see you tomorrow."

Kurt glared at him but accepted the small, incredibly chaste hug which was all Blaine could give him within Burt's proximity. Blaine turned to the parents, saying, "Thank you, Mr. Hummel, Mrs. Hummel. I'll see you around."

"See you, Blaine," said Carole, beaming. Finn awkwardly gave him a nod, and Blaine nodded back, not quite sure how to greet him, but he smiled at Kurt one last time before heading out of the door. Kurt turned back to his father, who took a deep breath and began with, "Okay, I know that you know all this, I just want to go over this with you right now…" and Kurt sank bank into the couch with a groan.

* * *

"What happened?" asked David as Blaine finally emerged and headed to the Porsche. David was still in the car, while Wes and Dwight leaned outside of it, waiting. The Impala was blaring "Back in Black" from its speakers. Blaine looked relieved as he approached. "Went well?" Wes asked hopefully.

"I'm alive—says something when your boyfriend's protective father owns a shotgun," Blaine quipped as he grinned at them.

"Wait, so it's official now?" Dwight asked, following Blaine as the prefect and Wes prepared to board the car. "You and Kurt, I mean?"

"Apparently yes," Blaine smiled as he opened the passengers' side door, beating Wes to it and receiving a glower from the other boy. "Kurt said yes, and his parents…sort of approved soon after."

"You're on a roll," David grinned.

"We're still in a bit of a mess, though," Blaine answered as he sat. "Logan was apparently in there breaking the rules."

"What rules?" Wes asked as he got into the backseat.

"The ones where there should never be any proof, and that no one should ever say anything. He told Kurt's parents about the Twins' party, and how crazy Windsor is. They're not going to tell administration, but Kurt's dad says that if he doesn't pass the new student academic assessment, he's going to get moved to Stuart House."

The expletives that came out of the boys' mouths could make sailors blush. Wes looked like he was going to explode, so Blaine added, "All right calm down, calm down. Kurt's parents were all right with this. I told them that nothing goes into permanent records."

"Damn straight," David muttered. "Or we'd _all_ kiss the Ivy Leagues goodbye."

"I don't want war against Stuart," Blaine warned. "I know the Twins must've guessed—it's the only reason they'd run out of here that fast. I'm going to keep them back when we get back to Dalton."

"What the hell, Blaine—Logan fired the first shot!" Dwight shot back. "No one _ever_ tells! Ever! Even Stuart and Hanover know that! Geez, didn't you tell me that before Justin took over Hanover, it got into trouble just like Stuart and Windsor? That big mess with—"

"Dwight, just—just get back into your car, all right? We'll talk about this back in the dorm." Blaine sat back sighed. The "Hunter" frowned and just turned, striding back to his Impala, clearly annoyed. It was amazing to Blaine how far he'd come, seeing as how Dwight didn't approve of Kurt being in Windsor to begin with.

As David started up the Porsche, Blaine added, "Logan's really pushing me."

"If you're looking for people to stop you from pushing back, you are in the wrong car," Wes retorted.

"I can't fight back right now—I've got to worry about Kurt. Logan got us good this time. If I don't find some way to curb Murdoch, and let's face it, he's the only one who'll actually pull Kurt's score down, Kurt will end up in Stuart. I don't want that."

"We'll find a way," David assured him. "We did it for Dwight."

"Don't remind me," Wes put his head into his hand, before glancing back to the Impala following them. "I never want to have an exorcist over ever again. And all the things he had us do before letting us into his room—I hate garlic now."

"Yeah? You weren't the one who made the mistake of asking what the pig heart was for," David answered.

Blaine shook his head. "And the day had been windy, so Charlie banned wind chimes from Windsor not long after, since Dwight kept screaming about the presence of demons."

* * *

Kurt arrived at campus next day in his Navigator which had no room for passengers owing to the incredible amount of things he had to bring along, most of them having come from his trip to New York and his Christmas presents. Unlike the first time he had come to school, when he had this sense of uncertainty, he felt almost relieved to see Dalton's gardens and architecture again.

Maybe it had something to do with the fact that the house was crammed with tension after Burt sat him down and had the long-awaited and long-dreaded "talk". Finn had evacuated the house in record time. Carole's presence and input only made things even more awkward during the talk, but Kurt was nevertheless grateful for their need to have to bring this up, _completely unnecessary though it may be._

From the moment he reached the gates, he noticed a crowd of young women peering into the courtyard hopefully, clutching glossy photographs, notepads and pens, craning their necks and straining to peer past the bars. As Kurt went into campus, he saw who they were all, apparently, waiting for.

He did a double take when he passed the young man in the gray shirt, jacket and crisp jeans, hair slicked back and smiling as he spoke to the few girls allowed inside, and he was scribbling into their notebooks. Kurt finally recognized him when he flashed one of them the smile that he'd seen before.

It was Julian Larson, the young actor who appears in a TV show, and a movie or two. Upon recognizing him, Kurt nearly hit a potted plant and had to stop when he realized that he was staring in amazement. What was he even doing here?

It got odd when Julian suddenly glanced up, as though sensing someone was looking at him. He saw the stopped Navigator and saw Kurt through the windshield. And he flashed him the smallest, knowing Cheshire smile remarkably reminiscent of the Twins'.

Baffled, Kurt drove on to Windsor. Upon coming in to his dorm once again, he found one of the reasons why he missed it.

With so many Warblers in Windsor, it wasn't unusual to hear people break out into song every now and then. David had once began singing such an incredible rendition of "Kiss From a Rose" to Katherine over the phone that the other Warblers ran up to him and actually provided him backing vocals (it was reported later that Katherine cried). Ever since people found out Reed could sing solo, they encouraged it by singing along when at one time he had his headphones on and was singing to "It Takes Two" from Hairspray (Reed also cried).

Today was no different.

As Kurt pulled his baggage into the doors, other Windsors were still settling in, just like he was. And then he heard, as everyone just kept moving in and having a good time, David start a melody from upstairs. He didn't actually sing any lyrics—it was a harmony. It was this familiar, catchy melody, and after he started the first line, Wes joined in on the second, using the same wordless melody, simply making sound and harmonizing.

Other Warblers, on the ground floor, looking upstairs, and those upstairs, were starting to grin. In the next pass, they all began joining in to the melody, creating a seamless sync.

It was only after a couple of the Warblers started to beatbox to the music that he realized what they were "singing"—Windsor was echoing with the sound of "Trashin' The Camp".

The Twins, from the mezzanine rails, joined in the bridge melody as they snapped their fingers to the beat, and soon all of Windsor was ringing. Reed was twirling around the second floor hall, singing along happily with the rest of them.

The rest of the Windsor boys were grinning, listening and grooving along to the Warblers as they continued to sing. Kurt started to grin as the Windsor conspirators sighted him and smirked as they sang, motioning for him to join in. Kurt laughed and shook his head, but got roped along as Reed grabbed his hand and pulled him into the fray.

The boys sang and Windsor rocked to the beat, the song name all but too appropriate as the boys aimed to settle back into camp and subsequently prepare themselves for more things to come. As the song faded out, it was met by scattered applause and laughter, as the Windsor Warblers pieced off again to return to whatever it is they were previously doing.

Kurt turned as an arm suddenly slipped around his waist and he met Blaine's smiling eyes. "Welcome back," the prefect said.

"Let's hope I get to stay," Kurt responded with a smile. He slipped his hand onto Blaine's and remained there. The Twins scoffed with matching smirks.

"Wow, it's barely been a couple of days and you two are already PDA-ing in the halls," Evan sighed dramatically.

"You should be ashamed, Blaine!" Ethan said in mock rebuke. "You know that such displays are forbidden!"

"In the academic buildings and the open grounds? Yes. But I didn't read _anything_ about all this not being allowed in the Windsor House rules." Blaine grinned, pulling Kurt just a little bit closer, enough for the others to take notice and erupt into snickering. The countertenor turned scarlet and peeled himself off him for a moment, but he kept their hands together.

"You're the prefect, you _make _the rules!" Reed remarked, smirking.

"I may have chosen to purposely overlook a few," Blaine admitted, smiling at Kurt.

"Very funny," Kurt replied, raising an elegant eyebrow. "Let's not get me into any more trouble than I'm already in. I'd like to remind you all that most of the reason why I'm behind in the workload is because all of you make it nearly impossible to focus for more than an hour." He picked up his bag and his suitcase and headed to his room. The others, predictably, followed him.

"And it promises to become even _more_ tedious!" Kurt added as he walked. "What's going on? Is the school being used as a set or something?"

Reed looked confused as he walked with him, trying to help him pull the stroller bag but got his hand swatted away by Kurt who didn't want him to get cut on the nametags. "What do you mean?"

"Julian Larson is out in the courtyard!" Kurt gestured. "You know, the guy who plays Grant from that TV show _Something Damaged_?"

The Twins looked confused. Evan blinked. "Oh, so Julian's back? I thought he was expelled."

"He _goes_ here?" Kurt looked at them in confusion.

"Yeah," Ethan nodded, looking a little more serious as they stopped outside of Kurt's room. "And he's one of Logan's wingmen. So watch out for him."

At the name, Kurt suddenly turned around, eyes narrowed. He walked past Blaine and to the Twins. "I think the one who'll have problems is Logan. Where is he? He and I need to have talk that's been too long in coming."

At the tone of his voice, Reed gave Blaine a wide-eyed look and Blaine immediately moved forward, pulling Kurt back a little in caution. Dwight, peering from his salt-lined doorway, lifted the sprayer slightly. "…I sense evil again."

"Yes, you are," Kurt responded in the same hard tone. He looked back to the Twins. "Is he in Stuart?"

"Kurt—okay…take it easy—" Blaine pulled him back towards the doorway that Reed had already opened. "You were the one who said that you didn't want to get into any more trouble, and for starters, picking a fight with the Stuart prefect will get you into one."

Kurt snapped, irritated, "Oh please, Blaine, do me a favor and drop your feigned veil of virtue—you and I both know that when Logan got my parents into this, he's crossed a line."

"He has, and believe me, _when—_not if, _when_—I get the chance, I will throttle him. I won't even give you the benefit of getting to him first." But Blaine put a hand on Kurt's arm. "But we're both in trouble right now. If I don't get you focused on the assessment and Murdoch manages to get the drop on you, not only will I _lose_ you to my heinous ex's House, but your father will _kill me_. Do you see where I'm coming from?"

"Your ex is being a _pain_, I'll give you that…" Kurt sighed, shaking his head and entered his room…and stopped.

Reed stood in the middle of the common area, grinning broadly, opening his arms. "What do you think?"

The room had been redecorated. While it retained the chief features of old-world beauty that Windsor was so known for, and even if it _was_ half covered in padded, soft things for Reed's half of the room, Kurt had to marvel at the change. It was in white, with great sensitivity with the use of pale tones of blue, and the fabric in the room gleamed with silver.

"What happened?" Dwight asked, poking his head in and frowning at it all. "It looks like a penthouse! It's fluffy and cloudy!"

"I'm sorry if my aesthetics irritate your desire for the "Addams Family Funeral" look," Reed mumbled, looking stung.

"It looks great, Reed, don't listen to Dwight," Kurt shot the spiritualist a look before going over to his friend, giving him a hug. "So the one padded to extreme levels is your end?" He looked around. "It…looks a bit smaller than it used to, though." He blinked, and realized what it was. The third area, where another bed was supposed to be, was blocked off by large carved panels. "…is this even allowed?"

"They give us free reign in our rooms as long as we can pay for any damage and restoration," Blaine shrugged in answer, already knowing what was going on.

"Yes, yes," Reed grinned, heading to the partition. "I remember that you and I had an understanding. About my closet." And he pushed the partition open.

It took a few moments of stunned staring into what might have been fashion Valhalla before Blaine finally smiled with great patience and took Kurt's elbow. "Let's go sit down…"

"But…" Kurt couldn't stop staring, and Reed was giggling behind the shelf, trying to keep himself upright and nearly knocking over a decorative bell.

"Let's go…come on, let's get you unpacked…" Blaine patiently pried Kurt's fingers from the partition and led him away with a smile on his face.

"But…!"

"Kurt," Blaine gave him that smile that usually got to Kurt. Finally, Kurt turned away from the sight and allowed himself to be led away.

Windsor was starting to feel normal again.

* * *

"I think you all know why we called this meeting," Evan began.

"_Without_ Blaine…" Ethan added.

David and Wes were present, sitting in the living area of the Twins' room, along with Dwight and Reed. It had been two tireless days since Kurt had moved back into Windsor, and the assessment exams were tomorrow.

All of Windsor had worked very hard to do their part—in as much as they could. Of course they continued to pelt Kurt with the morning coffee cups (this remained one of their favorite things to do, because no one reacted quite so furiously as Kurt did, if the flying coffee cups were any indication). But they did try to tone it down a little. Drew hardly blew a doorknob out during this time.

The Twins cut back on their barrages down the hall, and if they did so choose to rapidfire paintballs at the occupants, they always skipped that one door in the hall. It was no wonder that Reed often took shelter in the room he now shared with his friend.

Blaine, David and Wes worked with Kurt, trying to help him catch up by trying to remember what the assessments actually were like since the last time they'd helped anyone through it. And that was with Dwight, who was completely unhelpful in these matters—he barely remembered them. After taking Kurt through an exam coverage that had absolutely nothing to do with mythology and American History, and more of why protection symbols should be tattooed onto the skin, the Windsor triad bundled Dwight out of the room and told him to go "purify" something and keep busy.

It was a couple of days later that, as the countertenor prepared for another fearsome studying session, Blaine had gone out to the South and Main to track down some of the old versions of the assessment exams and get wind of the coverage of the new one.

This left the conspirators, David, Wes, Dwight and Reed, in the Twins' room, plotting as they always did whenever there was a disturbance in Dalton that they themselves did not instigate. This was a benefit to both parties—Kurt could study without the ambience of pandemonium, and the plotters could make their battle plans.

"All right, so Logan may have broken the rules," said David, frowning as they returned to a topic they had not broached for the past two days. "But Blaine doesn't actually want us to start waging war. Everything's been quiet so far, and I think I'll have to agree. If we start _anything_ now, we'll lose Kurt to Stuart and we'll have to put up with Blaine's most melodramatic playlist." He sat up. "And I'm not talking about the I-miss-Kurt playlist—I'm talking like _last year_. The one immediately _post-Logan_."

Wes shook his head. "I had no _idea_ that there were so many relevant songs in the world. Ever."

"You can't blame him for that," Reed said softly. "And I don't blame you guys for storming there either. I swear I saw _red_ when I first saw that bruise on Blaine's arm!"

"All right, that's that—" Evan finally said before Wes and David could make an angry agreement. Ethan gestured for quiet, leaning forward from where he sat with his brother. "Let's get to the point."

"Blaine says no…" Evan began.

"But we can say 'yes'," Ethan finished.

"Who is _we_?" Dwight raised an eyebrow.

"The rest of us," Evan said calmly. "Blaine is the acting prefect while Chaz is away. He'll be back anytime this week."

"So until he _does_," Ethan said coolly, "Blaine's little compass of virtue—which we are working on dismantling, by the way—will still point to let's-all-keep-calm. I'm betting that if he _hadn't_ the responsibility to look after us, Windsor, _and_ Kurt all at the same time, he'll be leading the charge."

"So we're going to do it for him?" Wes stared.

"We can't let Logan get out of this unscathed," Ethan answered with a frown. "We went after him, remember? He was completely unapologetic! He said that all he was doing was trying to help Kurt, because "_Windsor is hardly the best place to start a newcomer into Dalton_"."

"And Stuart, Land of Pressure-Until-You-Snap _is_?" Wes shot back.

"I'm telling you, if we want newbies to live long, Hanover _may_ be the place," Dwight mumbled. "We uproot them when they're grown a little. Wes sure survived."

But the Warbler shook his head. "Oh if you knew what I knew about Hanover…"

"Why?" Dwight blinked.

"Can't say. Rules say no one tells. Hanover is just a little stricter, s'all. Switzerland, remember?"

Evan snapped his fingers, getting everyone's attention. "Hey! Come on, you guys. Peace or no peace, we have to get Logan back for this. Send him a message."

"Windsors do _not_, most emphatically _do not,_ roll over and take it while Stuarts get to do as they please," Ethan nodded. "So we hatched a plan."

Everyone leaned closer. Reed stared, eyes wide. "What…kind of plan?"

"A really _really_ interesting one. And we called you guys, because you have influence and pull. If this turns bad, _oh man, _are we in so much trouble!" Evan was jittery with excitement, barely able to stay sitting, his twin equally affected as much.

Dwight narrowed his eyes at their excitement over what seemed like a plan of equal magnitude to taking down a Deathstar. "Is this a near death plan?"

"You can say that it's a near academic death," Ethan said thoughtfully. "I mean, we're talking suspension, expulsion… all the nasty –sions."

"Then this involves breaking and entering," David started.

"Precisely, dear Hatter." The Twins cracked grins. "We're going to break into the Red Castle."

Reed was slightly less baffled than Dwight was. This was only due to experience. "You've done that before. You've pranked them there before and have had some pretty close shaves. …I don't even know how you managed to get that many colored plastic balls into Stuart House…"

"Oh no. This time we're going for something big. A real…feather in our hat, should I say." Evan grinned.

"It'll be breaking a rule right back between houses, but…if Logan knows what's good for him, he won't charge us for anything," Ethan said somberly. "He'll understand when he finds out what we're about to do."

"What _are_ we going to do?" Dwight asked suspiciously.

The Twins grinned, their Cheshire smiles never more pronounced.

"We…are going to go steal Pavarotti."

* * *

That late afternoon, Blaine closed the door and Kurt looked up from the couch of his dorm room, looking deeply tired. All the glow in his skin was gone, and that in itself was staggering. Immediately, the prefect looked concerned. "Kurt, how many hours have you slept?"

The other boy seemed to give this far more consideration than what was comforting. "…counting yesterday?"

"I know you're making sure you pass, but there's no reason for you to do this to yourself." Blaine sat close next to him, pulling away the notebook in his hands. "As much as I want you to pass this ridiculous thing, I don't want you fainting midway."

"Please—I'd rather keel over and give up a Tony award before I let that ogre of a Literature professor get the better of me—it's gotten personal now," Kurt narrowed his eyes. "…okay, maybe not the Tony, you'll peel that from my cold dead hands. But you know what I mean."

"I do," Blaine smiled. "Just don't push too hard, all right? For your sake and mine—I'm pretty worried about your father's shotgun skills."

"Thanks for leaving me by myself there, by the way—The Talk was _such_ a comfortable discussion," Kurt bristled, sarcasm dripping from his tone.

"Hey, if _you_ felt uncomfortable, I would've gotten twice that if I stayed. I had to givethat talk to Shane by myself and you don't know awkward until you've done that. I had to abandon ship."

Kurt laughed a little. "I guess." He sighed and leaned against Blaine, who put an arm around his waist. After a moment, Blaine murmured, "…thanks."

"For what?" Kurt blinked.

"Saying yes."

Kurt turned red and glanced to the direction of the window. "You say that like we both didn't know it was going to happen…" He smiled a little. "When you sang "Your Song" to me, I said yes without you having to ask, you know."

Blaine smiled a little as well, squeezing his hand. "It was just that…" he shook his head. "All this bad blood between me and Logan… You know I think on some distant level we both knew. It's just that everything that was happening around is…it made us not want to risk it that far by making it official yet. There was just too much bad history."

He looked at Kurt intently. "…I said it before. You're braver than I am. When I heard you tell Logan that you…" he turned away and smiled to himself. "…when you told Logan that to his face…you have _no idea_ how badly I wanted to kiss you right then and there."

"You should have." Kurt smirked. "I for one wouldn't have stopped you."

"Oh, I know that _now_," Blaine grinned. "But I didn't want my ex having to be in the same moment. I'm trying to make my life in Dalton as perfect as I can manage it to be. I just want it different."

Kurt was silent for a while, and then he sat up, looking more curious than anything. He looked at Blaine and said, "Seeing as how we're now…official… I think I have the leverage to ask this right out. …what made you come to Dalton? What…what _happened_?"

Blaine stared at him for a moment, then sighed and turned to the books. He closed took one of them in his hands, turning it over as he spoke.

"I was also one of the few out kids in my old school. I wasn't alone, like you…but we got bullied all the same. Some days were worse than others…and sometimes we got away with actually eating lunch before our trays were tossed back into our shirts. If it had just been me, it wouldn't have been that bad, I think. I could've really put up with it…but…there was someone else I had to protect."

Kurt eyed him. "Your…boyfriend?"

Blaine shook his head. "No. …I had to protect Shane."

Kurt stared at him in surprise. Blaine shook his head. "It's a really long story."

"I have time," Kurt said immediately, looking intently at him. "I want to hear it. You sat and heard everything on my end. It's my turn to hear yours, Blaine."

There was a pause, and Blaine said, "You remember those photos over my desk…? The ones that didn't have Warblers? Those would be from back then. The photo in the middle…that was me, Shane, Micah, Erin and Jude." Blaine laughed hollowly. "People who were okay with us teased us that we were the "Fab Five" because we were all gay, apparently… but…the bullies called us the "Fag Five". And every time, they would just…" he let out his breath. Kurt tightened his hold on his hand.

"Of those five…only me and Shane are left," Blaine muttered. He shook his head. "…the bullies…they went too far with Jude. We don't know what happened, there was never really any proof, and it didn't even happen on school grounds… But we found out Jude got killed because he was…he was _beaten_, like a whipped dog, and left in some alley. He was half dead when they found him—and he didn't make it."

Blaine's eyes were misting over but he looked angry. "And damn it, it was _after_, _way after_ we had all heard some of those jocks saying that they would really like to beat him until he's practically dead. We couldn't…we couldn't help Jude! He just…he was there one minute and then he was gone. We were just at his funeral and staring at him."

Blaine sighed and looked at Kurt. "When I heard Karofsky threatened your life, I thought I was going to _die_ when you disappeared during Dwight's party. It just _couldn't_ happen to me again. I didn't want that ever again."

Kurt shook his head and just kept their hands together. After a weak shrug, Blaine said, "After Jude was gone, that just left me, Micah, Erin and Shane. And Shane…he wasn't even officially _out_ yet, but he had so much secondhand abuse from the bullies that I couldn't… I couldn't stand and watch. I lived every day worrying that they'll hit him too hard. I tried everything, I tried protecting him, I tried keeping a head up for him, I tried talking to administration—_no one…really…cared._ And that was _after_ Jude died, everyone thinking it was an accident or a mugging.

"Erin couldn't handle the pressure, the thought that it could happen to any of us… She eloped with her girlfriend from another school when she found out that someone sent her girlfriend mutilated photos of them kissing. We still talk but…it's not the same. Then there were three. And I lived every day in fear that the school at large would find out that Shane and Micah were seeing each other."

Kurt looked startled. Blaine nodded. "Shane…you know what he's like. He lets everything, his emotions, get the better of him. He thought he was desperately in love with Micah and yeah, for a while, they were. He just puts everything in everything. But he wasn't careful about it. I would catch them kissing behind the gym during lunch period, holding hands when they thought the hall was empty… I was happy for them, but their safety was at risk.

"…and then Shane started bringing Micah back home. And Kurt, if you thought it was bad at school, at home was worse. Shane and I were so far in the closet that the both of us agreed to take girls out just to keep up appearances for dad and mom. Mainly for dad. Mom…I think she knew. She just…she just never said anything. As though it'd go away if she didn't say it out loud."

"Your _mom_—" Kurt stared.

Blaine shook his head and just looked down at his hands. "…Dad came home early one time. Micah was in our house, making out with Shane the couch, if you can believe it. I told them a million, _million _times—don't do things in the house. In _our_ house. I don't know what got into them. But Shane had just ducked into the kitchen, and Micah was on the couch practically half naked, and I came downstairs just as dad came in."

Kurt was white in shock, hand at his throat and staring. Blaine nodded. "I had a million scenarios, you know, of how I was going to come out to Dad. I really wanted to, you know. Just so he would stop talking about how disgusting being gay apparently was. Never in all that did I imagine that I was going to come out…because I would end up saying that Micah was _my_ boyfriend, and that I brought him home. And that I was gay."

Blaine managed a forced, bitter laugh. "It was the worst and best moment of my life so far. Me, explaining how Micah and I had been dating _forever_! All the things we did. And in some really weird way it felt _amazing _to finally just tell the truth. I felt…out. It just felt like I could _breathe._

"And all the time, from behind dad, I could see Shane in the kitchen, looking dead white and horrified and I could tell—he wanted with every bone in his body to come running out and tell dad that it wasn't true, but I just looked at him and shook my head. I knew what dad was capable of. And someone as _emotional _and downright sensitive as Shane will never live it down."

He looked bitter. "The fireworks were unprecedented. I thought dad was going to kill me and his yelling—the whole block must've heard. He threw Micah out onto the bricks, and me into his gun cabinet, did you know? Like he could…_pound_ the gay out of me. I just laughed and took it. I wasn't myself anymore, I just couldn't care less. I was gay, and he knew, and that was it. Mom she…well she watched. She tried holding dad back after she saw I was bleeding, but that wasn't _after_ a good fifteen minutes."

He licked his lips nervously and laughed a little. "But…I don't think mom could've helped anyway. And Micah? He disappeared. Never saw him again—maybe dad threatened him, I don't know. But it broke Shane's heart and I lost my friend.

"It got really bad at home after that. Dad seemed convinced that I wasn't really gay. He just kept trying to "turn me straight". I was the eldest, so…I kind of had a lot riding on me. We fought a lot, until we just ended up not talking for a while, and every day, Shane would go up to me saying that he really wanted to take some of the heat off me by telling dad the truth. That it was his fault. But… that only would've made things worse. It's bad enough that _one_ son was gay… What would Dad do to me and Shane if Shane came out too? He'd probably think I 'contaminated' him. Shane wasn't even the favorite—_I _had been."

He waved it away, "And so…after things at home got bad… I started to crack under pressure in school, with the bullying, threats… Before I came out, I could take comfort that I could be alone at home, where Shane and I would be safe. But after I came out…it wasn't good anywhere. Something just…had to give. And that something was me."

He let out his breath in a long sigh—a breath that carried the weight of the world and an immeasurably heavy heart. "…so I ran. I just snapped and I ran like crazy. I…went to Dalton. I practically _demanded_ to board. I couldn't stay at home, at my old school, one more minute. I couldn't take everything anymore. I ran. I got too scared, it got too hard…I just up and left Shane alone…because I couldn't handle it all anymore. I had to come here, Kurt. Courage couldn't save me."

He was starting to weep. It was the worst to him, Kurt saw; the fact that he left Shane to fend for himself. Kurt took Blaine into his arms, pulling him against him and pressing his lips into his hair. Blaine didn't cry, he only let the hot, angry tears fall in silence. As though he refused to crack again. His armor was perfect. But that armor wasn't on him as a knight—it was on him to protect him from the world.

He put his hand on Kurt's arm. "…don't. I really don't want to do this anymore. You've got enough—"

"I want to," Kurt answered fervently, holding him even tighter. "You've had enough. You've had more than enough. You've held it all together—for your friends, Shane, and me—so for godssake, let someone _else_ hold _you_ together for a change. And let it be _me_ for once."

Blaine held Kurt in silence, and his grip tightened for one moment of weakness. "…I want to be selfish. I want to be selfish just once—just for this—you. And I can't let Logan have his way—you'll see something terrible come out of me the next time he tries, I'm telling you that now. I don't want you to ever see it, but at this point, I think it'll happen. I can't lose you, Kurt."

"Rein it in," Kurt smirked a little. "I'm not going anywhere." He moved so he was now directly in front of him, never more serious in his life. "Listen to me. Hey!" He snapped his fingers to get Blaine to look at him. "Listen to me. All that—it's never going to happen again. Do you understand? I won't let it happen again. I'm not…I'm not your damsel-in-distress, and for that matter, if you treat me as one, I will throw you into the fountain." He smiled just slightly. "I'm here. I'm not going anywhere. And you better not either."

He held his hands tight, leaning their foreheads together. "…no one's running. We've got this."

Blaine just smiled. He lifted Kurt's hands to his lips and kissed them tenderly. "…may I ask? When did you get to be this perfect?"

"Didn't you hear? I was born that way," Kurt's smile grew into a grin. Blaine laughed softly, leaned forward and closed the distance between their lips in a long, slow kiss that Kurt returned.

As he released Kurt, whose eyes remained closed, Blaine murmured, "Well…don't ever let anyone convince you otherwise."

"Trust me," Kurt smiled a little up at him, "never going to happen."

* * *

Every year, through private caucus, the Warblers select a particularly excellent Warbler—someone whose talents and efforts deserved recognition—to be given a most unusual honor: and that was to become the caretaker of a real warbler. The incumbent warbler of honor, Pavarotti, was something of a novelty; a warbler that had a lineage that went many generations back, and clearly someone whose Legacy far outweighed most students in Dalton today.

Pavarotti had been given to Logan last year for his excellence in leading the Warblers as their lead singer. The little warbler now resided in a beautifully crafted cage that hung from an elegant golden stand that resided in the anteroom on the third floor. Unfortunately, that anteroom—which became almost a small common room—was led to three other doorways, two of which were Logan and Derek's. Care needed to be taken.

Normally, breaking into Stuart House wouldn't be _that _much of a challenge to the experienced twins, but after having broken into Stuart approximately eight and a half times and with Logan expecting retaliation, they had to admit that security was _good_.

The Twins returned from their spy mission with disappointing news to those assembled in the common room. They made sure Blaine was out of the way by convincing Dwight to get the acting prefect out of the House for a short while. While Kurt was in Windsor, such a task proved to be a challenge, but Dwight rose to the occasion by taking some bright red paint and painting a huge enchanted sigil onto Blaine's windshield, claiming that he was purifying it from demons.

That got the prefect's attention pretty quick, and as far as anyone knew, Blaine was still running after Dwight at this very moment.

"They've got new latches in their windows…" Evan reported importantly to the conspirators. "Their door locks have been changed. And thanks to some extremely generous contributing, their room doors now need keycards."

"Key cards?" Wes snorted. "What are they, the CIA? Not even the Teacher's Quarters have keycard locks."

"You only have yourselves to blame," Reed rebuked from where he was nursing a stubbed toe—his second within the last six hours. "You broke in so many times that they've taken drastic measures."

"I'm pretty sure that their security cams are fake…" Ethan murmured, looking contemplative. "But I can't be sure. Overall, we'll need the opinion of an expert."

Kurt, from where he was curled up on the couch, going through the exam scope for Biology and Environmental Studies, frowned. "So at the rate you're going, you're _not_ experts?"

"Oh Alice," Evan said with a kind smile. "You flatter us."

"But really, the person we're talking about…" Ethan nodded, almost melodramatically. "He's the Mycroft to our Holmes. He would've been amazing, if only he had the physical drive and ambition as we did."

"You're talking about breaking into Stuart House—which I totally disapprove of, by the way," Kurt frowned. "Your "ambition" is clearly to get expelled."

"Please don't tell your Rabbit, Alice!" the Twins begged, piling themselves onto him and he, in turn, swatted their hands off with his book. "Don't tell him—he'll be such a wet blanket about it all—"

"I'm not going to tell Blaine—let go of me!" Kurt glowered at them and ran a hand smoothly over his bangs to make sure they remained in perfect condition. "But this is only because whatever it is, Logan will have it coming for once." He frowned into his book again. "…I can't believe he told my parents all those things."

"You sure you don't want to come with us during the break in?" Wes grinned, relishing the fact that their newcomer wasn't completely opposed to this idea, meaning that his transformation was almost complete. "You can give him comeuppance yourself."

"No, I'm not interested in committing a crime."

The Twins looked at each other, and then grinned at him. "How about meeting the Caterpillar? You've been here a while and you've never met him. You really should. He's interesting."

Kurt glanced at them, raising his eyebrows. The Twins only ever named people they were particularly interested in with Wonderland names. "…Caterpillar?"

Kurt had never been to the upper floors all that much. Windsor was an edifice of five floors, but he had never gone past the third because he had no reason to. As far as he knew, they were all the same anyway.

* * *

The fourth floor was a quiet place that looked a little less beaten by crazy antics than the lower floors. Some doors had students' names on them, others were empty rooms. He followed Reed and the Twins down the hall until they reached a door that wasn't wooden and completely unalike the rest.

It had no latch, no knocker—it was a white, metal panel with a black rectangular LED screen on the door. They hadn't even properly approached it when the rim of the screen turned red, flashing urgently. The Twins smiled. "He knows we're here."

Kurt stared at them suspiciously, but the screen suddenly flashed and words appeared.

_WHO ARE YOU._

"Tweedles," the Twins chorused happily, almost on autopilot after so many times.

A pause. And then:

_NOT YOU. THE OTHER TWO._

"He can see us?" Kurt said disbelievingly.

_YES I CAN._

"Come on now, you know Reed," Evan grinned brightly. "And Alice! You've seen them before."

"He has?" Reed stared, looking a little afraid now.

There was another pause. And then the screen "spoke" again.

_WHO ARE YOU._

"Didn't we just tell whatever this…thing is?" Kurt snapped, looking irritated and realizing that he apparently hadn't quite gotten knee deep into Windsor's crazy yet.

"He wants you to say it yourselves," said Ethan helpfully. "For voice identification."

Reed and Kurt looked at each other. Kurt rolled his eyes, but Reed came forward good-naturedly. "Reed Van Kamp! The Dormouse!" he said to the screen. He elbowed his friend after.

Kurt sighed deeply and decided to humor the situation. "Kurt Hummel." The Twins and Reed looked at him with expectant eyebrows, and he glared back, but he added, "Alice."

Automatically, the door began to hiss, shooting a powerful stream of thick dry ice mist from under its bottom slat. Kurt and Reed jumped back, nearly into the twins, as the door slid sideways and provided entrance into a dark room, dimly lit with many glimmering squares within.

The Twins readily stepped inside. Reed and Kurt hung around outside, clearly unwilling, so two identical arms shot out of the door and pulled them into the cold darkness. As soon as they stepped inside, the door hissed shut. There was a moment of silence—and the sound of someone shuffling around in the room.

"A little light, please," Ethan said patiently. "Alice and the Dormouse aren't used to you, Han."

"Oh, right," came a voice that sounded a little flustered. There was more shuffling in the room, someone bumping into something metallic, and finally, lights rose, fluorescent from above. Kurt stared around him in shock.

There was a carpet of smoke on the ground, and it came from tubs of dry ice that flanked what must be a massive computer. It had a tower of data storage next to it, and there had to be more than one of its kind in the room. The room itself was almost nothing like the living areas in the rest of the dorm. The sleeping area had been reduced to a futon on the ground, right next to what had to be thousands of dollars worth of gaming and animation paraphernalia.

"Sorry it's so cold," came the voice from earlier. "But it's the only way I can properly keep all the systems cool—I mean they'll totally overheat if I don't—the air conditioners just don't cut it sometimes…"

Kurt looked around to find the source of the voice, and his eyes finally rested on a young man pushing away a shelf that blinked with a multitude of server lights. His dark hair was cropped close and he was wearing a white shirt covered by a massive wool jacket. He looked at them through glasses that nearly hid away brown eyes.

"Alice," said Evan happily, "Meet the Caterpillar."

"Hey," nodded the boy. He stumbled to them, tripping over wires on the ground for a moment, hand extended. "I'm Han Westwood."

Kurt shook hands with him, staring in confusion. Han shrugged. "I don't go out much. I like it indoors."

"We…can see that…" Reed murmured at all the computers. Some were playing music, some movies, others doing odd processes that involved a great deal of scripting and coding.

"You have to get out more, Han," said Evan plaintively.

"All this radiation is making you glow," Ethan added.

"Hey, the world is your playground; it just so happens that the internet is mine." Han picked up a nearby can of Mountain Dew and popped it open. After a drink, he looked at them calmly. "So you want to break into Stuart House?"

"I'm sorry—how did you know that, you weren't even there?" Kurt stared.

"I have sensors that pick up pretty awesome things from time to time," Han smiled a little. "Come on, I'll show you." He walked to what may be the "throne"—it was a huge cushioned chair that sat behind no less than six massive flatscreens that were connected together.

Han's glasses reflected the light from the screens as he sat. He cleared his throat and pulled on a headset, and then began typing. From one of the screens, he clicked away a window that was playing Misfits and pulled up a grainy view of the Windsor common room.

Reed stared with wide eyes, nearly tripping over a cable. "Hey!" Han protested. "Watch it—you'll interrupt my download!"

"You have this whole House _bugged_?" Kurt demanded, scandalized.

"And some parts of the school, but don't tell anyone," Han muttered as he typed rapidly, posting something onto a website. "I mean, I did bug the place, but I don't actually look through the footage unless I really hear something interesting come on." He tapped his headset. "And even then, I hardly listen. I have a hundred thousand mp3s, flacs and podcasts—I don't need to hear ordinary conversation about how Derek is killing a varsity team again or how you and Blaine made out on the roof deck in New York. Whatever you guys do down there—it's not really my thing." His last sentence curbed the look of murder Kurt was giving the twins, who looked angelic.

"But you heard that we wanted to break into Stuart?" Evan raised an eyebrow.

"Certainly," Han responded smoothly, saving photos as he spoke. "Because _that_, Tweedle, is interesting." He suddenly pulled up a screen that had a good view of Stuart House. From the height of the angle, Kurt suspected it came from a lamppost.

"We need to get into their locks," Ethan said plainly. "But they've changed into keycards after we broke in the last time."

"Ooh…" Han was smirking, typing rapidly and clicking away with his mouse at a speed that made Reed wonder why the mousepad was not on fire. "Bad move, Stuart. Keycards, huh? Hey Hummel, pass me that box on the shelf next to you."

Kurt saw the box easily—it was in blinding video game colors—blowing some dust off it and gingerly handing it to him. Han took it from him and popped the lid open, pulling out a gadget that no one recognized, until he also took out a handful of plastic cards of various decors. Reed realized what the machine was for. "You're…going to give us copies of their cards?"

"Uh huh…" Han was typing very quickly and then he connected the machine onto his computer. He worked with a strange program for a few moments. "So we need codes… Let me just see if I can find a backdoor into the system on Murdoch's—_wow,_ that was easy. Come on, Stuart, this is not security; this is an _invitation._ So!" he made a few clicks. "You need to get into the anteroom where Pavarotti is kept."

"Who's Pavarotti?" Kurt asked, puzzled.

"A very special soon-to-be House Guest," Ethan said happily.

The machine on the desk blinked green. Han smoothly picked up two cards and swiped them through the machine twice. Then he swiveled to the Twins, pushing up his glasses. To Ethan he handed a green Mario mushroom card. "This mushroom will get you in the maintenance door at the side of the House." To Evan, he handed the red Mario mushroom card. "And this will get you into the anteroom."

"Bear in mind, that while I may or may not have put Logan Wright's room code in those cards, I'm not responsible for what you choose to do to him," he added with a smile.

"Thank you, Han," the Twins grinned, holding their mushroom cards.

"Hey—a deal is a deal." He shrugged. "You keep my headquarters here under wraps, I get you things." He now looked at Kurt. "You know, I can download the exam for you, so you know what's coming."

Kurt gave him an incredulous look. Han blinked, disconcerted. "What? I can."

"Pass," Kurt responded airily. "I can handle this on my own, thank you very much. And _you _bear in mind, that if you have bugged our rooms and you look into _our_ room, I'll know about it and come up here, and we'll have a repeat performance of what I did to Tabitha."

"Hey, I don't look into other dudes rooms," Han replied, hands up to him, blinking a little anxiously. "They leave me alone, I leave them alone. Unless I hear bloodcurdling _screaming_ which means someone's being murdered, I won't look. And trust me, I've saved the House a couple of times from some serious fire damage. Chaz owes me big time."

"All right, we _will_ get along, then," Kurt smiled.

"Awesome. Now all of you leave so I can get back to my fielding some fanwars on my thread."

* * *

The Caterpillar, as it turned out, really was a recluse. He was never otherwise seen in Windsor. No one actually talked about him, and Kurt began to assume that maybe only the Twins ever did actually see or talk to him. Everyone _seemed_ to know his existence—"Han? Yeah, he really likes his internet."—but they didn't think that his reclusive behavior was anything to worry about.

Kurt didn't have so much time to dwell on this, as the next day was the day of the exams. If Murdoch's side comments during classes were any indication, he ought to gird up his loins and tackle whatever hellish assessment exam was to be given to him.

In the end, however, when Blaine saw the light beyond his half open door well past midnight, he knocked gently and entered to find Kurt sound asleep on the couch, face pressed to a notebook. Reed was sprawled on the plush carpet nearby, with a half finished artwork, fingers stained by pastels.

Blaine smiled. He went in and turned out the overhead lights, lighting the golden lamp next to the couch instead. He very gently lifted up Kurt, making sure not to wake him as he lifted his cheek from the notebook. The spirals of the spine left marks on his cheek and he had to stop himself from a letting out a laugh. He moved the notebook away and replaced it with a cushion.

As he did, he glanced at the pastel art that Reed had made. He stopped a moment, and gave it a closer look. It wasn't a complete drawing, but he knew those curls, and the intensity of the eyes that Reed had captured perfectly onto the paper. The eyes that looked up in wonder that very first time that Reed had ever met him.

Blaine studied the sleeping boy on the carpet and wondered if Reed did hold something for his brother beyond the confusion. He had wept when Shane left without knowing why, and didn't that say anything? Reed's fingertips rested just at the edge of the half-drawn lips, sleeping innocuously. Maybe Reed was trying to figure things out still.

Blaine turned back to Kurt gently putting a hand to his cheek. "…Kurt?" he whispered carefully, seeing if he could still be awoken. He put his hand on his shoulder. "Kurt…?"

The other boy stirred. A flutter of nymph lashes. "…Blaine…?"

"You shouldn't sleep here…" Blaine murmured carefully. "You'll catch a cold…"

"Mm…" the discussion was a lost cause. Kurt was falling asleep again, and Blaine no longer had the heart to wake him.

As he moved through the room to pick up the two boys' comforters, Blaine was completely unaware that just outside, in the hall, four figures slipped stealthily past. They moved soundlessly down the hall, towards the window in the alcove at the end of it, lifting the latch silently.

The window opened. Wind whistled lightly through the branches of the trees that they leapt onto—only two looked truly graceful, like cats, even as they bounded over the branches. The other two were less agile, but followed steadily with sure footing.

These four shadows took a last glance at Windsor before turning around and heading for Stuart House, windows all darkened, in the distance.

When Blaine left Kurt's room, after making sure that both boys would stay warm, he saw the open window. He felt a little puzzled, but assumed it must have been forgotten. He closed the window, unaware that in the House just within view, a card decorated with a green Mario mushroom slid through the lock of the maintenance door, admitting the four figures in.

As soon as the four slipped in and the door closed silently, the Twins' figures crossed the short hall and peered into the largeness of the Stuart entrance hall. They never needed to speak to one another, and both moved immediately.

As they passed the entryway to the kitchen, David took one look in and shook his head. "Stuart House has a serious obsession with coffee."

"I heard that if you wound a Stuart, they bleed espresso," Wes remarked with a grin.

"Shh!" Evan hissed, eyes glinting as they reflected the faint light. "This way."

It was risky enough—Stuart House was awake past when most normal people would be, mainly because more than half of them were still studying with great effort. The trouble with Stuart House was that a vast majority of its occupants were incredibly willful, driven, and absolutely talented, more so than in other houses. As a result, they could be quite competitive with one another, and always strove to return with excellent grades.

This was something that happy-go-lucky Windsor wasn't quite prepared to adapt.

The second floor began to make things complicated. It had been dark, but just as the group arrived at the landing, a Stuart student emerged from a door and was in the hall, carrying a stack of photocopies. The student looked up when he heard the noise that resulted from the Twins, Wes and David crushing themselves into a pile on the other end of the mezzanine.

Puzzled, the student walked towards their direction. It was dark enough everywhere, but they couldn't risk being seen at all.

"Oh _crap_!" David hissed as the student approached. Evan quickly started to fumble with his fanny pack, and Ethan grabbed the item from him. It was a massive jawbreaker. The Tweedle twin then made a dramatic throw, much like a pro baseball player, which sent the jawbreaker flying through air, into the darkness, and onto the stairs, pounding noisily as it bounced down. This caught the student's attention, and he went to investigate in that direction.

Exhaling in relief, the troop immediately fled soundlessly down the hall. They could see their quarry already—the door at the end of the hall. Ethan took out his red mushroom card and swiped it into the lock, but nothing happened.

"What the?" he hissed.

"Maybe it was too fast—try again!" Wes hissed.

The second swipe still failed. The student was coming back upstairs. Ethan hissed what might have been a curse or an incantation over his card, before swiping it again. The lock turned green. The boys disappeared into the room, the door closing just as the student came up.

The quarry was at the windowed side of the anteroom. Pavarotti's pretty cage was covered with a cloth, to prevent the bird from getting disturbed as it slept. The Twins approached it very gingerly. They were aware that if they moved the cage too much, the bird might wake, chirp or sing, and the game would be over.

With great care, they began to lift the cage away from the hook.

A small, rather unafraid twitter sounded inside, and the four boys froze.

Derek's door opened, and the varsity captain glanced around, certain that he'd heard a bit of a commotion. He had always been a light sleeper—he had been ever since he woke up to being completely covered by what must have been glue and feathers thanks to one time the Twins decided to break in.

He saw that the anteroom was empty.

With no reason to look at the bird, believing it to be perfectly safe, he walked out of the anteroom and into the hallway, just as the Windsor boys, Pavarotti in tow, disappeared down the stairs. But just to make sure, Ethan threw a distraction.

Derek looked up as a jawbreaker bounced up to his feet. He bent down and picked it up, feeling more apprehensive by the moment. But before he could head downstairs, the maintenance door had opened, and the conspirators were flying back to Windsor.

* * *

The day of the exam rose, along with a general exclamation of surprise in the common room. The first few students who woke spoke hearing a little bit of song and peered in to find the noteworthy warbler in the common room, with a pair of very happy Brightmans downright spoiling him by loading its feeding tray.

While Kurt was mildly fascinated by the sight of the golden cage that had been so dramatically revealed in the Windsor common room, Blaine looked furious.

"What the hell?" he demanded, gesturing to the bird. "You _stole_ Pavarotti from Stuart House?"

The bird twittered a response at him that sounded more amused than anything. Kurt peered into the cage with a frown. The bird responded by giving him a chirp that acknowledged the blue-eyed boy. Kurt glanced back to the way Blaine was glowering at the Twins.

"I want to know exactly what went through your heads," Blaine said, glaring. "Because pranks like water balloons and glue and feathers are one thing, but _stealing_ the _prize warbler_ is something else. If Harvey and Medel hear about this—"

"They won't find out!" shrugged Evan.

Blaine's fingers were pressed to his temples in frustration. "All right—_that bird_? Everyone knows Pavarotti. And everyone knows that Pavarotti was given with a whole lot of pomp and circumstance to _Logan_. And as far as can tell, Stuart's pretty damn proud of that. And they're not going to take the fact that you broke into their dorm again—how did you do that, by the way? They've got key cards, and _please_ tell me that you didn't get Han to hack into their security—"

"Well Han was more than happy to…" Ethan said thoughtfully.

"Stuart is not going to take this lying down," Blaine snapped.

"Oh no," Wes shook his head, arms crossed over his chest. "They wouldn't dare. Like you said—stealing Pavarotti is insane. And Windsor doesn't pull out insane unless it's particularly deserved."

"The Stuarts will start to wonder why we pulled this one," David explained. "Stealing Pavarotti is like calling for World War III—and when they ask, Logan can't tell them why."

"Wait." Kurt turned away from the little warbler and looked at them. "Why can't he?"

"Dalton House rules," Reed said, rocking on a bean bag chair, feet tucked under him. His face was still streaked with some pastel. "No one tells. Anything. Ever. Logan broke that rule when he told your parents things. And not even Stuart will appreciate that."

"Derek'll get pissed off for sure," snorted Wes. "Because Logan will have to tell him that Windsor retaliated because he broke a rule—just to get you back from Blaine."

"Get me _back?_" Kurt echoed, the note of righteous fury starting to fill his voice. Dwight backed up immediately, clutching his talismans. Kurt stepped forward to Wes almost menacingly, "When was I ever _his_?"

"Whoa—easy!" Wes backed to the piano in the common room, staring at him. "I didn't say that!"

"I'm not a trophy!" Kurt snapped, turning to look at Blaine. "What will it take to get him to understand that? He's got to stop _doing_ this because I'm really starting to get sick of it!" he headed for the doors and flounced out, striding into the open.

"Kurt!" Blaine ran after him. As he reached the door he turned back, pointing at the Twins. "Pavarotti had better be alive when we get back—if Windsor kills that bird, heads _will_ roll!" And he ran after Kurt.

He reached the other boy just as he got halfway to the Main. "Kurt! Kurt—_wait_."

"Why?" Kurt asked indignantly. "He doesn't seem to be waiting, Blaine! He's playing us like we're chess pieces and he has to be stopped! He's acting spoiled, petulant, and let me tell you something—I will _not_ stand here and let him get in the way of my own life!"

"I won't let you confront him like this when you're angry," Blaine snapped back. "Because Logan is running around unmedicated. If you blow up in his face, I guarantee you he'll push back."

"Then I will tell him to take his freaking medication!" Kurt retorted, pushing past him. Blaine caught his arm in a powerful grip, pulled him back, and pulled him close tightly against him in such a way that Kurt could barely move.

"Blaine!" he cried, trying to get free.

"Stop, okay, just stop." Blaine's tone was quiet, firm, and final. He wasn't letting go. Kurt stood, fuming, glaring at him, but Blaine never batted an eye. "Stop thinking about him, Kurt."

"Why not? He's helping himself with interfering with my life as we know it."

"And right now, you're playing right into his hands."

Kurt stared. "What?"

Blaine pulled away slightly. "Think about it. You're angry. You're going to go out there and confront him. You'll ruin your composure, your focus, and most importantly, the exam. And then you'll land into Stuart's hands. And he gets what he wanted—you. In close proximity." Blaine raised his eyebrows. "Don't underestimate that guy. He likes getting what he wants."

Kurt leaned his temple onto his fingertips, looking frustrated. "I told him myself. You _heard_ me tell him. Why can't he just get it in his head that _you're _the one I_…_" He shook his head.

Blaine embraced him, kissing his cheek gently. "I know. And don't worry…he knows. …and that's why he's doing this. He just…can't stand to not get what he wants." He gave him a nudge and smirked. "You know what'll really sting? If his plan doesn't work out. If you pass, you stay with us."

Kurt glanced at him and sighed. He clenched his fists but did not throw them. "Fine. I'm still going to throttle him for this right after."

"You are more than welcome to after—and I'm going with you," Blaine said with a smile. "Logan should realize that we're not going anywhere."

"Yeah…" Kurt nodded, holding his hand. He shook his head. "He just…he just has to be _made_ to understand."

* * *

The rest of the day passed in a blur of tests, papers, questions and answers. By the time Kurt staggered out of his last exam, he realized that it had been a good idea to listen to Blaine. If he had gone ahead and confronted Logan before all this, it would have been physically and emotionally impossible to complete all this hoop-jumping he had to go through. The other two new students who took the exams looked even worse than he did.

He had the opportunity to think when, at one point, he got absolutely stuck at one fearsomely complicated calculus problem. He had the chance to think about what he wanted to do or say. As time passed, he became calmer, and he remembered why Logan didn't take his medication. He got worked up earlier, and it made him forget that Logan didn't like his medication because he was looking for a reason to feel. Everything else was simply collateral damage.

"_When I'm numb I just don't feel happy or sad, even when you're there. This me, Kurt—this is who I really am. And I'm sorry that I'm a terrible person when I'm not medicated, but the truth is—but the truth is this is the me that's horribly, ridiculously in love with you and I just can't do anything about it!"_

Kurt shook his head as he leaned against one of the shelves in the hall. Logan knew what he would become. It's just that he started to stop caring. He just wanted to feel—the way everyone else did. Even if his rage became dangerous. It was _something_ he could feel.

And he hated, most of all…the fact that he couldn't feel anything even when Kurt was near.

_I can't be the reason for you to change_, Kurt thought to himself as he pulled his bag up. _It's not right for me to be. …because I just don't think I can help you the way you want me to._

"Hello."

Kurt nearly jumped out of his skin when he saw Julian in the hall, smiling. Hair slicked back and uniform perfectly unkempt, the celebrity said, "I'm Julian. And I know you from Logan's pining."

_Does __**everyone**__ in Stuart know? _Kurt turned red, frowning at him. Julian saw his expression and just smiled in the signature way he had perfected over countless photo shoots. "Come with me."

"What for?" Kurt asked, wary.

"You're looking for Logan, aren't you?" Julian answered with a smile. "I heard you and Blaine in the grounds. I'll take you to him."

Kurt remembered the warning given to him—about whose side Julian was on. But at this point, the only way to stop all this is if he went to enemy territory. Julian was already walking. Kurt managed to send a surreptitious text to Blaine, telling him where he was.

To his surprise, he saw Julian leading him to Warblers Hall. "You're a Warbler?"

"No," Julian said coolly. "I already have single out. I don't need it." He motioned for him to come closer. "Look."

Still suspicious, Kurt nevertheless approached and peered into the door. There wasn't much to see, but he could see two figures sitting on the piano bench. Kurt recognized Medel in a beautiful flowy dress, sitting on the left, but her hands were not on the piano.

Logan's hands were. He sat next to her, blazer already shed, and playing a song, which he was singing to.

_Something always brings me back to you._

_It never takes too long._

_No matter what I say or do I'll still feel you here 'til the moment I'm gone._

At the first lines to "Gravity", Kurt felt a little startled. He had never heard it sung quite that way before—in a manner that seemed so unlike Logan's usual colorful voice. He kept playing anyway.

_Set me free, leave me be. I don't want to fall another moment into your gravity._

_Here I am and I stand so tall, just the way I'm supposed to be._

_But you're on to me and all over me…_

And suddenly, Medel made him stop.

She turned to look at him, a little concerned. "Logan… what's wrong?"

"…what do you mean?"

That soft tone. Kurt had heard it once before. It was in Central Park. When he had looked and felt so numb. Julian noticed his recognition and said, "He's really trying, Hummel. He knows he has to take the medication from time to time… He doesn't like it…but he does anyway."

Medel said to Logan, "I just don't…well… You know how your songs are just filled with emotion sometimes…? It's not here now, Logan. You're singing it for the sake of singing it. You don't…feel it."

Kurt turned away. He didn't want to hear this. "What color does Windsor paint of him, Hummel?" Julian asked coolly with a smile. "Pretty bad, huh? It's not a wonder you look bewildered to find he's human…"

"Why is he in there with Medel?" Kurt asked by way of diverting the topic.

"Trouble back at Stuart. Somehow we lost something important—a real live warbler. And for some reason, Derek is furious. Because the blame all points to Logan, and something he did that "wasn't worth destroying himself for". I don't know, maybe he took it too hard. Logan took his medication soon after that. He told me he wanted to go here. And…try. Or something. Try to sing? Try to remember? Try to forget?" Julian eyed him as he said softly, "Do you think…he's trying to forget you, Kurt?"

Kurt swallowed and said nothing, starting intently at Logan at the piano. Julian continued, "Anyway…Medel heard him and got worried…so she came in.

Medel still looked concerned. "Can you sing the bridge for me? And this time, please try, Logan. You can do better than this, I know you can."

When the music resumed, Kurt found himself inside the room, walking to the boy on the piano. Logan's emotion, and the color of his voice with it, vanished with the medication. He lost himself entirely. And this was what he was trying to say all along.

Logan raised his eyes and saw him as he played. At first, he looked a little startled, and Kurt recognized that haze in his eyes. Kurt shook his head, gripping his bag, with an expression that urged him to sing—to sing the way he used to that first time he crossed the room and met him at the same piano.

He missed his cue. Medel glanced up to see Kurt, but she just smiled a little and turned to Logan. "Try again," she said amiably.

Logan looked from her, then to Kurt. Kurt stared back, and for a moment, as Logan began to play, he thought he saw a spark of life return.

_I live here on my knees as I try to make you see that you're everything I think I need here on the ground._

_But you're neither friend nor foe though I can't seem to let you go._

_The one thing that I still know is that you're keeping me down…_

That song. This was why Logan wanted to go Warblers Hall. He was trying to feel through song. It made Kurt wonder if that was what he was doing the first time he met him.

And now, with that small spark of life he gained, Kurt finally heard Logan sing again. It was a weak comparison to his real talent, but he was trying. He was really trying.

Medel still didn't look pleased. She knew fully well what Logan was capable of, and this was not it. He needed something else. Something more. She dug through her folder, and carefully pulled out a song.

"Logan…can you try this one?" She then rose and looked to Kurt, handing him sheets. "If it's all right…can you sing with him for this one? Because…I'm just a little worried. He didn't sound like himself."

Kurt, already holding the sheet music, couldn't say no. But Logan himself said, "Kurt might not feel comfortable with this." The look he gave him made Kurt realize that Logan knew what he had done to him. That he had struck the low blow. That he had acted out of desperation.

And for the love of all that is good, please leave and never come back.

Kurt sat next to him on the piano, surprising him. He hated being put in the middle like this, that was true enough. He wanted to hate him, he wanted to scream at him. He wanted everything for his being such an interference and for being so manipulative. For hurting Blaine. Hurting himself. Hurting him. And everyone else.

But when you're that lost…you needed someone to pull you to a safe place. Logan had wandered too far in, and now no one else seemed to want to come pull him back even a little bit. Logan would always be alone, fighting his own battles, looking for a lifeline that always seemed to snap at the worst time. And Kurt, who knew how that felt, couldn't bring himself to hate him for _that _at the very least.

He couldn't give him love. But he could be there. Just for a while.

So he dove in.

"…I'll sing it. With you."

Logan looked at him with a strange expression. Kurt looked back at him without fear, without concern. "…I promised you I'd help."

The green eyes began to grow a bit clearer somewhat. Without a word, he stared to him—in gratitude? Respect? Downright shame? Whatever it was, it made Kurt turn away and back to the keys.

Under Medel's eye, Logan now began to play. He sat just a hair's breadth away from Kurt's skin, the two of them not looking at each other as he began to sing.

_Everyone's around, no words are coming out_

_And I can't find my breath, can we just say the rest with no sound?_

_And I know this isn't enough, I still don't measure up_

_I'm not prepared; sorry is never there when you need it_

_And I do want you to know_

_I'll hold you up above everyone…_

Medel's expression spoke words of amazement without a sound. Even Julian came in from where he was lurking by the door. Logan was singing again. Just like that time before—when he could sing because he found someone or something to sing to.

Kurt's smile threatened to tug at his lips, but he pushed it down, tucked it away, in a place far from this, where he began to sing with Logan.

…_And I do want you to know_

_I think you'd be good to me_

_And I'd be so good to you_

Kurt took the words now, turning to the black and white keyboard. He closed his eyes.

_I thought I saw a sign somewhere between the lines_

_But maybe it's me, maybe I only see what I want_

_and I still have your letter, just got caught between_

_Someone I just invented, who I really am and who I've become_

The two of them glanced at each other just once as they continued to sing:

_And I do want you to know_

_I'll hold you up above everyone_

_And I do want you to know_

_I think you'd be good to me_

_And I'd be so good to you…_

_I'd be good to you, I'd be good to you,_

_I'd be good to you, I'd be so good to you_

_I'd be good to you, I'd be good to you_

_I'd be good to you, I'd be so good to you…_

The song trailed away. Medel stood staring at them both in amazement, the two who sat at the piano, hands on the keys, fingers so close yet not touching. She had heard Kurt sing alone, and sing with Blaine. He had been wonderful both times, but there was something different when he sang with Logan, something new.

It was awkward, hopeful and something terribly sad. As though they had disappointed each other in some distant way, as they sang together in a time that they could never come back to.

She looked down at her setlist, and back to them. Carefully, taking the sheet music from the stand (the two paid little attention), she murmured, "This…this isn't anything final—we're still having long deliberations but…would you consider singing this…for Regionals?"

* * *

Blaine came out of class and found Wes and David by the couches, waiting for him. He smiled at them, and glanced around the way he always did, hoping to sight Kurt and ask how his classes went. Kurt wasn't around yet, but his exam should have finished already.

He was about to pull out his phone and call him, when he heard someone yell.

"Blaine!"

He looked up. To his surprise, he saw Han and Dwight. Han looked white in the face, and Dwight equally horrified. They were running desperately to him. Han was holding a printout and a phone. Dwight's hands were shaking when they reached out and touched his arms.

And when Han spoke, Blaine understood little beyond a terrible cold coming over his entire body. That dread that filled him with immeasurable horror.

_Blaine…_ Han was speaking to him, _Blaine—I saw this…on the web… _

Where was this breathlessness coming from…?

_It hasn't reached us yet—and—and it just got reported in…_

Dwight was shaking Blaine, trying to get a rise out of him. _Say something, Blaine—!_

…_that a mountain climbing party had vanished…after a rock slide…_

That flash of color as Reed walked in at entirely the wrong moment…

…_Blaine…your brother…he was one of them...on the list…_

Blaine closed his eyes and sank to his knees.

* * *

_On the next episode: The rabbit hole goes too far down...and continues to do so. As the search for Shane begins, tension rises within campus grounds. And yet, through the fog, Kurt finds that even in this dark time, a hand will clasp another, without regard of who it is, pulling his fellow upward, into the light._


	19. Paint

_Hi, I'm CP Coulter, your author for this fic._

_Once again, my gratitude to the fandom knows no bounds. You have given me so much in the past month. There has been so many things happening and to this very moment, I cannot believe that I have reached this point. With over two thousand reviews and two hundred thousand hits, with the Warblers themselves aware and reading into the fic, I start to question if I am even awake, or if I'm being played some gargantuan practical joke on. I feel just like Alice, wandering too far into Wonderland, and wondering who I am now and not knowing._

_Thank you, Kurtsies, all of you; and I say Kurtsies because even those who do not wholly ship Klaine have been nothing but amazing people. All of you are incredible people, and my thanks extend endlessly towards you, the people who continue to read in spite of my sporadic and strange ways. I wish you all nothing but the best. You have done so much for me and I only wish you knew how much._

_A word: the winner of a small race I had instigated in tumblr will make a cameo appearance in this episode. Please look forward to her presence!_

_I really hope that you will enjoy this episode._

_(**I do not own Glee**. Glee is just too amazing to be owned by me.)_

* * *

**Dalton**

**Episode 19: Paint**

* * *

The Windsors were gathered in the common room, all of them sitting or standing around the couch, all eyes trained onto the widescreen screen on the wall. The news of the accident had spread like wildfire, with mobiles going off in the halls, with messages that sent them all ducking back to their House where their acting prefect had run to the instant Han and Dwight gave him the news.

The Twins looked uncharacteristically serious, staring at the screen and waiting for the news to come on. They had all seen the bulletin whizz by that said a news segment would speak of the accident. Dwight was nowhere to be found, but Wes and David flanked Blaine from where the acting prefect was standing by the window, the phone at his ear and fingers pressed to the bridge of his nose, looking as though he were holding himself down again.

"Yes…tell them it's an emergency," Blaine muttered, with great patience in his voice. "…I know. Tell them it's Blaine. And that Shane's been…he's had an accident up in the mountains and—and it would really _help_ if they _knew_ about it. Yes, I know—thank you." He hung up.

"Don't tell me," Wes stared at him in disbelief.

"Still out at some business dinner, party, or something," Blaine answered as he crossed the room to the couch. Everyone immediately made room, Reed vacating the spot in the middle that he'd saved for him. Blaine's hand shook just slightly as he put his phone into his pocket.

"This is ridiculous, your parents can't be _out of contact_ at a time like this!" David burst out.

"Would you like to give it a try?" Blaine whispered in a very restrained tone that implied danger if David continued to state the obvious. David just shook his head and turned away. Blaine only ever got testy when he was really stressed at any rate.

The program blatted on in the television, Blaine hardly paying attention as he sat lost in thought. At that instant, the doors to the common room flew open with Kurt running in, flushed with running. Blaine immediately rose and moved to him as Kurt hurried to him and held him tightly in his arms.

"I just heard—I'm so sorry I wasn't—" Kurt flustered, holding him tight.

"It's fine," Blaine murmured, hugging him tightly in return, clearly more tightly than he'd wanted to show. "It's—I don't have other news yet. TV hasn't… Han's working on it…" He just shook his head. He glanced up slightly, and gave a small start.

Logan was standing at the doorway to the common room. Wes saw him and rose. "What's he doing here?" he demanded.

"I'm right here, I can hear you," Logan muttered.

"He heard the news," Kurt answered, looking at Blaine. "We were talking to Medel in Warblers Hall. He—" he glanced at the other prefect. "He followed me."

Blaine felt a little confused at this, and Logan could only shake his head as though he wished he could explain as well. The Twins stood in front of Pavarotti's cage nonchalantly, shielding him from view, but Logan just rolled his eyes at this. "I know you took Pavarotti and he's right there. I can hear him chirping." He sighed. "Besides, you distracted Derek with a jawbreaker, the thing that you embedded into a snowball you threw at him during the storm."

The little warbler made a tiny chirp as though in answer, or maybe in approval—no one was ever sure, and the twins looked at each other sideways awkwardly. "…oh."

Kurt glared at the twins before he looked at Blaine and hugged him one more time. He led him back to the couch to have him sit down. "Have your parents said anything?" he asked.

"They're unreachable," said Blaine, looking intently at him and holding his hands. "But I left a couple of dozen messages that even they wouldn't ignore."

The common room received another outsider when Justin came running in, breathless. "I just heard from the Hanover Warblers! Blaine—I'm sorry to hear it; I came here as soon as I could…" He saw Logan and did a double take. "Oh. Hello, Logan. Didn't expect you here."

Logan rolled his eyes. It was at these moments that he really realized how unusual his being sympathetic for any reason was. It was a testament to his reputation.

The small speaker sitting on the table next to the couch crackled with static, making the people near it jump. Han's voice came out of the speaker, proving that the Caterpillar was again at work. Kurt had always wondered what it was for, and he realized that it was Han's means of communication to the outside world.

"_Pipe down, guys. News is coming on…_"

And at the cue, the news segment finally aired, with everyone in the room staring intently at the screen. Blaine kept holding onto Kurt's hands as they both watched. The segment itself wasn't very long, but it was all they had right now.

The newscaster reported that six teenagers from the Walcott School had set out on a mountain climbing trip some days after the New Year, with only one or two of them being actual members of a mountain climbing club. The rest had come along for the excursion, hoping to experience camping at high altitude. A rockslide had been reported not long after the boys had gone on their trip, and since then nothing has been heard from the group, who failed to return on their designated day.

This meant that the climbers had been missing for over twenty-four hours as they spoke, and search parties were being sent out to find the teens who must have been in a serious accident, as their severed climbing cords had been found near where the slide occurred. Searchers are combing the rockslide area for any signs of life or bodies.

The parents were currently being alerted, but for purposes of identification, the missing teenagers were all shown onscreen. Kurt felt it when Reed, pale and shaking, sank onto the couch next to him the moment Shane's photograph—smiling with his classmates—appeared on the screen. Blaine's hand shook so much that Kurt had to cover it with his other one.

All in all, this was almost too much for Blaine to look at and there was almost relief in the room when the segment ended with the newscaster claiming to make more updates as they come in.

As soon as the news segment ended, the speaker crackled again.

"_Just so you know, I'm still tracking the news as they come in. I'll keep you guys updated. Hey Tweedles—come up here and get the walkies. So I can update you guys if anything important comes up. Blaine, I'm going to keep looking. I'm…I'm really sorry about this._"

"What for, it's not your fault…" Blaine answered, but the tone was so monotonous and rehearsed that Kurt realized that he must've been saying this exact line so many times that it ceased to mean anything except an automatic response.

The prefect got up and walked out of the room, Kurt following after him and holding his hand, making to head upstairs. They passed the two prefects, Justin patting Blaine's shoulder as they went. Logan watched the two of them, their linked hands, as they left without even glancing at him. He lowered his gaze as they passed, and then glanced to the twins.

The twins only blinked back at him curiously, and Logan muttered, "Take care of Pavarotti, or Harvey'll have a fit." And he simply left. As he walked through the foyer, he took out his phone and punched in some numbers. He wasn't far enough for Justin not to hear him say, "I'd like to talk to him. Yes, this is Logan."

Justin looked puzzled, and then turned to them. "All right then. Better get cracking. We've got to do what we can, yeah?"

"Whoa, whoa!" boomed a sudden voice from the foyer, moving towards them. "What's Logan doing coming from—why is Justin—" and then the voice reached them, "What's with the _air_?"

Everyone turned, and even Kurt and Blaine from the upstairs landing turned to look at the sound. A tall boy was standing at the doorway, dressed in a varsity t-shirt for the Dalton Kings. His foot had a bandage but he didn't have a crutch, and he still had a neck brace. His brown hair was unruly but his cornflower-blue eyes looked kind enough. He looked at everyone, bewildered at their stunned expressions.

"…what? Your prefect comes back and I don't even get a hello?" he said in disbelief at the succeeding silence.

At the sight of the senior downstairs, Blaine suddenly looked deeply relieved. "Hey Charlie," he said with a great sigh. "Welcome back." He gestured to all the other boys as though passing back the responsibility in its entirety. "They're all yours."

The Windsor boys stared as their rightful Prefect gave them a puzzled expression. And with _that_ off his mind, Blaine pulled Kurt back upstairs, heading into the hall.

_I'm Kurt. And this is Dalton Academy._

_No one was prepared for the news—least of all Blaine._

_Everyone seemed to take it hard, proving that Windsors look out for their own._

_Windsor knows better than any other place when it comes to handling a crisis._

…_mostly because it was often their fault._

_And now Charlie, the real prefect, is back. _

_Which means that Blaine has nothing else to focus on but this._

"What do you mean, you stole the prize Warbler?" Charlie exploded, and everyone in the common room winced. After Blaine and Kurt departed, Charlie herded the rest into the common room for explanations and to be briefed on the ongoings.

"We told you…" Wes winced. "It was because Logan told Kurt's parents—"

"Who the _hell_ is Kurt?" Charlie demanded, now looking more confused than ever.

"Alice!" the twins answered.

"Who the hell is _Alice_?"

This was not the best way to start off catching their prefect up. Like the prefects Logan and Justin, Charlie Amos had the thrilling job of looking after all the Windsor House boarders on a closer level, unlike the Howard who was more of a class adviser than anything and wasn't around as often. Windsor being the way it was, Charlie often had more problems to resolve—and cover up—than the other two House Prefects did. And he had been doing all right as well, until the Twins gave him his accident.

David groaned and buried his head in his hands as the Twins cheerfully added, "Alice is the newbie! He followed our White Rabbit and—"

Charlie waved them away irritably. "I wasn't talking to you two, I meant people who make sense." As the Twins bristled at the accusation, he looked at Wes and David almost pleadingly. "How long a backstory is this going to be?"

"For starters, "Alice" is Kurt Hummel, the new boarder. Second, you were in traction for a while, Chaz, it's a hell of a long story," Wes muttered.

"Well I have time now," said the prefect, frowning. "What's with all this air? Blaine's the Acting—did you guys take it easy on him like I asked you to?"

The derisive snort that came from the speaker in the common room made everyone glare at it. There was a cough, "_Oh…damn, the speaker was on? Sorry. Not even here._" The click punctuated this.

"Blaine's brother Shane is missing," Reed said softly from one of the chairs. He was staring at his hands. "He went mountain climbing and there was a rock slide…" his hands were shaking—the way the coffee cup in his hands was shaking was the indication. He settled for putting it down. "I'm—going upstairs to…check on Blaine and Kurt and…finish my paintings…" He hastily left the room.

The Tweedles watched him go with raised eyebrows and look at each other. Charlie watched him go, astounded, and then flailed again to the others for explanation. "Again, _something I'm missing here_?"

"He…well, not exactly him—Shane was…" Wes struggled with the words. "Well Shane showed up during Winter Fest and he looked…very taken by Reed. We don't think Reed reciprocates this but…I don't know, he just started crying after Shane left after the New Year party."

"…Okay… and on _that _awkward note—" Charlie wheeled onto the Twins. "It was your turn this year. What happened? Please tell me that you didn't destroy—" the deep sigh and guilty mutters all around made him made him stop midsentence. He sighed. He should have known better than to ask the Twins. "All right, screw this." He began to take off his neck brace.

"Whoa! Whoa!" David leapt to his feet. "Should you be doing that? Chaz!"

"You think I'm going to want all this plastic on me when you guys clearly don't know the definition of holding back…?" he dropped the brace to the couch. "And I'm going upstairs to talk to Blaine. After all the torment of the past few weeks, he might need someone other than the new guy to—"

"_No!_" everyone chorused, dragging him back down.

Charlie, looking at all the hands on him, stared at them as though they'd lost their minds. "What's the matter with all of you?"

"Don't—don't interrupt them," Wes flustered, gesturing with his hands. "Let them have their moment. Ah…we've kind of waited _forever_ for them to finally…be official."

"Officially what?"

David said it in his ear. Charlie gaped at him, and then sank his head into his hands. "Oh man, I am _so lost. _There are just no words to explain my confusion right now. It's just not possible that none of you _updated_ me all this time. I'm looking at you, Han!" Charlie yelled to the ceiling.

"_Hey, I don't keep tabs on everyone's love lives!_" the speaker protested. "_I've__ got way too many episode marathons lined__ up for that!_" The speaker clicked off again.

"What has Dwight been doing all this time?" Charlie muttered without looking up from his pained expression.

"Generally still being him…" Wes said thoughtfully. "Actually..maybe a little bit worse. He's convinced that Kurt is cursed because of all the things that happen to him—"

"Then he better exorcise all of _Windsor_ if the basis is "things that happen"," Charlie said sarcastically. He cleared his throat and looked around at the other boys, taking command by his air alone. "All right. We're going to sort out this mess. Wes, David, give me the shortest, least convoluted rundown of everything that's happened. Boys, I want you to do whatever you can to help Blaine's situation. Surely _some _of you are connected enough to do something. And I want you to downright spoil Blaine for the next few days. After everything you put him through, you better give back a little."

He turned to the twins. "And Pavarotti. Give him _back_ to Stuart House or heads will roll!"

"But Logan broke a rule!" Evan protested.

"He told _parents_ what we do here at Windsor!" Ethan supplied.

Being deeply rooted in Windsor ways himself, Charlie paused, considered, and nodded, "Okay, fine, the Warbler stays for a bit. But keep it alive and _don't_ keep him in the common room. Put him somewhere that Howard wouldn't see so easily." He clapped his hands. "Move! Everyone! And get this room cleaned up! Now!"

The boys immediately scattered, ducking the elder boy's wrath, like cards flying from a deck. As Wes and David talked to Charlie, the Twins approached Pavarotti's cage and gave the little Warbler a good long look, considering where to best hide him.

Then they both looked at each other and smiled.

* * *

A while later, Dwight sighed and leaned back, grumbling. "No, actually…I'm still getting _nothing_ from the pendulum."

"_Maybe because that __**isn't **__a pendulum's intended use…?" _The lightly freckled brunette on the other end was climbing shelves and pulling down dusty books, the "ancient library" interior contrasting with the Muse music blasting from the speakers. "_I mean, are you sure you've __want to do it this way__?_" She didn't often humor him like this, but it was a tender situation.

"Yes!" Dwight shot back into the phone. "You know, I've done this before!"

"_Dwight, when you tried doing that before with your brother, it also didn't actually work well._" It was the very blunt accusation, one that hit all the right nerves. "_It didn't work the way you planned_."

Dwight steeled himself and glared at the phone. "Are you going to help me or not, Aimee?"

Aimee McKleenan sighed and pulled two more books down from the collection. She was Dwight's go-to in Ohio for these things. As far as anyone knew, Dwight maintained several connections all over the country. If they didn't know any better, they would swear up and down that the spiritualist _was_ running a Supernatural-esque hunting operation.

"_Hey, I have siblings too_," she muttered into the phone as she flipped through the pages. "_I know how it feels… So yeah, this is me helping you…_"

"Thank you," Dwight answered with a sigh. He had spent the last few hours sitting with a large map of the Colorado mountains, surrounded by candles, assorted rock crystals, ingredients, and one crystal pendulum hanging over the map. To the ordinary onlooker, he might have simply looked ballistic, but he knew what he was doing.

Or so he supposed. But when the pendulum failed to find Shane over the map, he decided to call for an expert. And he only knew _one_ person in Ohio, and it would have to be Aimee and her everlasting patience.

This whole process was why Dwight was not present downstairs. He knew what it was like to lose a brother, and he out of everyone downstairs knew that far better than he liked. The moment he heard of Shane's disappearance, he had run with Han to tell Blaine the news—the way it should have been done to him years ago—and ran back to the house to use everything he had to find Shane.

He couldn't find Alan…not in time. But damn it if he didn't find Shane somehow.

There was a heavy thump as Aimee opened a book, rousing his thoughts from places they shouldn't be straying to. After a few moments of mumbling, she said, _"Okay…it says when you're looking for someone, it would very much help if you had something that can be directly connected to the person you're looking for. I don't know if it'll work with that crazy method of yours, but—"_

"But I don't know the guy!" Dwight protested, glancing at the ticking clock, knowing that time was crucial. "I don't have anything of his!"

With extreme patience, Aimee carefully spelled it out for him. _"You mentioned being in a dorm with his __**brother**__...?_"

"Yeah…" it clicked. Dwight blinked. "Oh! …you think I should get Blaine's blood?"

"_Why does there have to be __**blood**__?_" Aimee demanded incredulously. "_Get a photo, a shirt of his, something!_"

"Right! Right, you're right. One second, I'll call you back!" Dwight hung up and tore out of the room in a flurry of cloth. He rushed out of the oak door and went scrabbling to Blaine's door, slamming into it and knocking in a rapid, steady, unceasing flurry until it opened.

"_Yes_?" hissed Kurt as he leaned from the door, clearly restraining himself from a comment so sharp, it could've eviscerated that insistent door-pounder. He saw Dwight and frowned. "Dwight—if it's more food—"

"Food?" Dwight blinked.

Kurt rolled his eyes and opened the door a little more.

The Windsors cope with stress in their own ways and they like to think that they are aware of how the person they're helping "cope" does it. This would explain Kurt and the hundred-coffee-cup-plan that day they first heard him scream at Tabitha. Unfortunately, someone brought up the fact that back when Blaine was struggling with Dalton academics, he kept snacks around his room so he could eat some while studying (and mainly, this was because when he studied too hard, he forgot to get food).

So somehow, it had gotten into all the Windsors' heads—and there was little shadow of a doubt which identical pair of people put that idea there, because surely Wes and David knew better—that the way to help Blaine was with food. Kurt had left Blaine's room for approximately thirty minutes, couldn't be more, but when he returned, Blaine was absolutely surrounded with food—which ranged from fast food, to pastry, to full blown gourmet meals. The now ex-Acting Prefect didn't even have the strength to tell his well-meaning dorm-mates off and just let it all happen.

Kurt sighed and rolled his eyes at the mess, and at Blaine, who was sitting on his couch while talking silently on the phone with someone who sounded important enough for him to be quiet about it. Kurt looked at Dwight and motioned to the food. "Take one, I'm begging you."

"No, I'm here to see Blaine!" said Dwight immediately stepping in. "I need something of Shane's or relates directly to Shane."

"I beg your pardon?" Kurt narrowed his eyes at him. "What for?"

"I'm searching," Dwight said immediately. "I'm trying to find him over the map. It's not working. I need something of his."

"What kind of _searching_?" Kurt asked, arms crossed and frowning at Dwight. _Really, at a time like this? Seriously?_

"In this case, it's when you take a pendulum and hold it over a map and find someone—"

Kurt wanted to strangle him and could only repeat the words that should have been Windsor's house motto: "_Are you crazy?_"

"No…" Blaine hung up with whoever he was talking to and got up. He gestured absently to Dwight. "Give him what he wants."

Kurt stared at his new boyfriend incredulously. "What?"

"Here." Blaine tore a photo off the corkboard over his desk and tossed it to Dwight, who caught it easily. Dwight looked down at it and saw that it was one of Shane—just Shane, captured during a laugh that you could just hear coming out of the photograph—and he nodded. "Great! Thanks!"

And with that, Dwight fled the room. Kurt saw the door slam and he turned back to Blaine, walking to him with a frown. "All right _this_ is too much. If you're humoring Dwight now, you have to sit down and calm yourself."

"No, if it's Dwight it's fine." Blaine sat down with a sigh. "You can…_yell_ at everyone else for all this food, but you should let Dwight do what he wants."

"Why?"

"Dwight's probably the only one in Windsor who'll understand." Blaine leaned against Kurt's shoulder without much hesitance. "His little brother Alan also went missing. Dwight didn't know Alan was even gone—no one wanted to tell him—until he'd been gone for almost three days. Dwight was in a relative's house when it happened. He was thirteen and Alan was seven, but they were very close. Alan was found dead—in the exact spot Dwight predicted they'd find him in." Blaine sighed. "…didn't do well for his psyche. So if he wants to do this for Shane then I say give it to him."

Kurt got up and knelt in front of him, holding his hands. "Blaine…that isn't what's going to happen to Shane, you know. Don't give up like this. You're the last person he needs to give up on him."

"I'm not giving up on Shane," Blaine answered.

"Yes, you are. Look at you!" Kurt gestured to him, and around the room. "And all this! You haven't given up yet, completely, but I can see you're starting to. You're…breaking down."

"I just—I _can't_…" Blaine struggled to contain himself and failed. "I'm going out of my head here, I can't…lose Shane. I can't. I've lost everyone else from back then, and I thought I fought for my little brother—and in the end I ditched him. And now he's somewhere—"

"You did _not_ ditch him," Kurt reprimanded, glaring at him. "There was no _ditching_ involved. You coming to Dalton was a matter of you finally breaking down. It was the last straw. The fact that you held on for that long—it says something when you feel you finally have to run. It happens to people! There's only so much a body can take before…" He stopped here, letting out his breath. "…you'd think after you got me out of my old school, you'd understand." He turned away, wondering how to best alleviate his worries.

Blaine glanced at him and saw the frustration on his face. He smiled faintly and touched Kurt's cheek, making him look at him. "…I'm glad you're here."

Kurt gave him a tight smile, but his eyes never left his face. "…where else would I be?" Kurt leaned forward and put his hands on his shoulders. "You're the one who wanted to go out with me. So now you're stuck with me."

Blaine smiled and leaned his forehead on his. "…I'll take it."

Kurt leaned forward and kissed him briefly. Then he leaned back and said, "What did they say…the people you called?"

Blaine shook his head. "My parents finally answered. Mom sounded worried…dad sounded angry… But they're on their way to area as we speak. I…wanted to go, but they wouldn't let me. Told me to stay here. And wait."

Kurt moved a hand through Blaine's hair. "Then…we'll wait with you. All of us."

"I don't see why I shouldn't go and search with them."

"Because the last thing you should be doing is throwing yourself up those rocks." Kurt frowned. "I'm pretty sure that it's still dangerous after that rock slide. And then we'd have two brothers in trouble."

Sighing, Blaine leaned back on the couch, hand still dangling onto Kurt's. "I guess you're right, but… I can't help it. I feel like I should…be doing something more than this."

"There's not much more anyone can do…even if your parents are there, they'll also just be waiting." Kurt sat next to him again. "So let's wait. And…hope your crazy brother comes out of this in one piece."

Blaine nodded. He twined his fingers through Kurt's as he said, "Would you mind so much if you…stay here for the night?"

In spite of himself, Kurt turned scarlet. "Oh… I…don't mind. If you really need me to be."

"Yes, I do." Blaine wasn't looking at him, and clearly wasn't even reading too deeply about what he was saying, so maybe that was why he hadn't noticed Kurt's expression. He glanced back to him and said, "Only if you want to."

"Oh…I do." Kurt shrugged nonchalantly. Why was it this awkward now? And the situation—This reaction was completely uncalled for. It was for purely supportive purposes. He leapt to his feet, brushing himself off. "Well—I'll go…get my stuff. Bring it over. You just stay here and…" he looked around and saw nothing but food. He rolled his eyes. "…and eat, or something." And he hastily fled the room.

Blaine, who had been leaning on Kurt and had fallen into the couch when he'd gotten up, now watched him leave, a little puzzled by his alacrity. It was only then that he realized the implications of actually having his boyfriend stay in the same room as he is for a night. His face turned red and he groaned. "This is _not_ the time for this!" he grumbled to himself.

He settled for turning on the television in the hopes of getting more news.

* * *

When Kurt walked into his room, it was a welcome relief to find the neatness as opposed to the food-fiesta at Blaine's. It was quiet and seemingly unaffected, but in the middle of it all, Reed sat in the central area, staring at one half finished acrylic painting.

And when he turned in surprise to look at Kurt, his roommate stared at the sight of his paint-stained hands and the tear streaks mingled with paint.

"Oh Reed." He took a step forward and his foot moved a piece of rumpled art on the ground. He looked down and stared with a frown, picking it up. It was the half-finished pastel of Shane, and it was ruined. "What the—"

"I couldn't finish." Reed muttered almost dejectedly from where he sat, turning back to his work. "…when it's him…I never finish."

"What are you talking about? You gave him a painting in the airport."

"That wasn't finished either. He couldn't tell the difference, how could he?" He stabbed a brush into the canvas. "…I never finish." He made one black streak that outlined a curl, and his hand shook—and he stopped. He threw the brush onto the ground, pushed the canvas away—it fell with a clatter and he couldn't even bring himself to pick it up—and buried his face into his hands. He looked angry, frustrated, and more confused than ever.

"All right, you have to stop," Kurt said, more severely than he intended as he crossed the room and to his friend. But in this case truly necessary. He shook Reed hard. "Look at me, Reed! Stop crying and look at me!"

"I...can't even breathe right now—!" the other boy choked, paint and tears running down his face. Kurt muttered under his breath, pulling out a few of the tissues from a nearby box and wiping the paint away.

Reed swatted him away weakly. "The last thing I ever did to him—was reject him! He's—" he coughed, laughed bitterly and hissed at the same time, that confused jumble of sound being the reflection of everything he felt about himself at that moment. "—I might not have returned those feelings when he said them—but he fell in love with me and that's never even happened before! Do you have any idea how damned guilty I feel right now? It's not fair! Why is this _happening_?"

Kurt ground his teeth. He put the tissues down and slapped Reed. It wasn't as forceful as when he did it with Logan, but it rattled the other.

Silence.

The other boy seemed to come to, staring at him, one cheek scarlet. The tears stopped instantly. Kurt looked down at him, eyes blazing. "I'm sorry, but I had to do that. You were being hysterical. Shane. Is. Alive. Understand?"

This got a rise out of Reed. He had probably only needed to hear someone say it. "…I…" He blinked. "Oh, gosh, yes. What was I doing…?"

Kurt reduced the harshness now that he had his attention. "Until Blaine and I hear _anything_ about a dead body, unless you hear anything from _us_ directly, you're going to stop this crying—" he resumed rubbing away the paint from his friend's face and fingertips, "—you're going to stop scaring yourself senseless, and you're going to stop destroying your art!"

He grumbled as he picked up the canvas on the ground and put it Reed's lap. "Hysterics, that's all it is." He swept the paintbrushes from the table and into Reed's kit. "We have to focus, all right? I know you're upset—frankly everyone in Windsor is—but crying about it like this isn't going to help."

"Yeah…" Reed murmured, looking as though he just woke up. He fell silent for quite a long time, until he lifted his head, looking confused, "I'm sorry—when did you come in and why are you here again?"

Kurt rolled his eyes and shook his head as he wiped his own hands, getting up from the carpet. "I wish I had your expression on tape right now."

The door to their room flung open, and David and Wes were panting in the doorway.

"Hey!" Wes gasped, clinging onto the doorframe as David ran across the hall to Blaine's room to alert him. Wes was holding up a walkie talkie—and Han's voice was coming out of it. "Got something here!"

"_Hey_," said Han from where he was ensconced upstairs. He was working rapidly on his computer. "_Following the search party's progress real time through satellite—"_

"_How_ are you doing this, exactly?" Blaine asked the moment he came up to them Kurt immediately moved to take his arm as soon as he did.

Han hesitated a moment before saying, "_I…may have done a bit of creative hacking and 'borrowed' a spy satellite…"_

At the succeeding silence, Han immediately added, "_It wasn't like it's one of those aimed at another country right now, you know!_ _And it was really quick, I promise. Like maybe a couple of minutes…half an hour at most…."_

"I'm not sure whether to thank you or to hate you because now we're accessory to federal crime…" Blaine muttered, pressing his fingers to his temple.

"Just tell us, Han," David said.

"_Search party ran across some sign of the climbers. They found something at the bottom of a gorge. It was all ruined now, but definitely something one of the climbers might have dropped. They don't know what it is, exactly…"_

The others waited impatiently.

"…_but they said it was a small painting in a tube."_

* * *

Midnight came and went with no news from the search parties other than the one Han delivered. It wasn't promising. No Windsor wanted Blaine to go alone that night, especially after the news, but Blaine insisted that only Kurt would stay. Since Blaine was the boyfriend, he had precedence, but Kurt had misgivings about leaving Reed alone. Reed, on the other hand, all but threw him out the room.

"For heavenssakes, Kurt, _leave_," his friend had insisted, tossing him his things. "You think I want you to see me like this? Go—support Blaine or something. It's your job to help him, not me."

So Kurt went, but not without asking the conspirators to keep an eye on their befuddled friend. The Twins haunted the room for a while, until Reed booted them out for swordfighting with his paintbrushes. Wes and David were also in Blaine's room, helping him with all the food, until Charlie finally decided to get some order in the madness by telling everyone where to get off.

It had to be two in the morning when Dwight heard the soft knock at his door. He never lifted his eyes from the pendulum that flickered in the candlelight, the only source of light in the room. "…s'open."

The door creaked open. "My roommate's asleep," Dwight muttered.

"I know…"

Dwight looked up and saw Reed hugging himself in the cold, wearing those odd pajamas that were too long in the arms for him. His eyes were swollen. "…Can I stay here for a bit?"

Dwight studied him a long while. He noted that Reed had crossed the salt line at the door with no problems, and it wasn't three am yet, so it was likely that it was actually Reed and not some other kind of being. He shrugged and gestured for him to sit next to him on the pillows on the ground.

Reed closed the door, sat next to Dwight and put his arms on the table, peering at the map with glassy brown eyes, eyelashes still wet. "…what are you doing?"

Dwight was still carefully moving the crystal pendulum over the map. His eyes bore evidence of someone who had not stopped doing this for at least six hours. "…looking for Shane…"

"With…a necklace?" Reed asked.

"Pendulum," Dwight retorted, concentrating harder.

Reed watched the rather pretty crystal swing over the map. "…Pretty sure I saw this in a rerun of Charmed. You know they say this isn't how it actually works?"

"Shh!" Dwight mumbled. "I found Alan this way, I'll find Shane this way. And I'm not going to stop until I do."

"Who's Alan?" Reed asked.

"…my kid brother."

"Oh…" Reed was too numbed by the hour to have a real reaction. He buried his head in his arms with a sigh. He didn't know what happened after that, but he must have fallen asleep on the table. When he woke up, Dwight was still doing what he was doing, but there was a blanket around his shoulders.

"Did I fall asleep…?"

"Half an hour."

Reed studied the pendulum. "How long have you been doing this?"

"…since I heard the news…?"

"Why?"

"I told you. I'm not going to stop until I find Shane." He gestured without looking away to a photograph on the table. Reed carefully picked it up and saw Shane laughing in the photo. He smiled very faintly at the sight of him. "…when you're done…can I keep this?"

"No," said Dwight sensibly, with all that incorrigible stubbornness that he was so known for. "When I'm done, we'll find Shane and you don't need the photo anymore."

He sounded so sure of the matter that Reed almost smiled. It was that manic sureness that he needed to hear, and though Dwight's reasoning might be completely suspect, he decided to stay for a while longer.

* * *

Contrary to what Kurt may have expected, staying in Blaine's room for the night wasn't awkward. Everything was completely harmless. But they did share the same bed, and for a while, as they both lay there, leaning against the headboard with hands twined, both trying to sleep and finding themselves too worried to, there wasn't much either of them could do.

They waited.

Kurt was sure he fell asleep first, listening to Blaine breathe, because the blanket that covered them both when he stirred again later wasn't his doing. But he was awakened by music.

It was played low and softly, clearly in the manner of someone who didn't intend to be heard. But Blaine was sitting on the other dais, hands playing his keyboard. His dark-rimmed eyes showed that he hadn't slept yet. And he was trying to somehow, in some way, occupy himself during that wait.

His music sounded as though it came from somewhere far away, just like the expression in his eyes.

_Woke up this morning_

_And I heard the news…_

_I know the pain of a heartbreak_

_I don't have answers_

_And neither do you_

_I know the pain of a heartbreak…_

Kurt sat up a little, listening and watching Blaine. He didn't notice Kurt. It was hard to believe he'd notice anything right now.

_Then confusion and the doubts you had_

_Up and walk away_

_They walk away_

_When a heart breaks…_

Kurt walked to him silently in the darkness. This made Blaine look up for the first time. He realized that Kurt was awake and looked as though he was going to stop, but Kurt held out his hand and shook his head, gesturing him to keep going.

Blaine smiled faintly as Kurt now sat next to him, putting his hands on the keyboard and playing the music with him, their hands almost over each other's.

_I heard the doctor_

_But what did he say_

_I knew I was fine about this time yesterday_

_I don't need answers_

_I just need some peace_

_I just need someone who could help me get some sleep…_

_Who could help me get some sleep…_

Kurt smiled a little as they continued to play the music together, Blaine still singing. But he smiled at Kurt when he looked up at him. He looked a little better now, and that smile got just that bit brighter as their hands touched over the music.

_This isn't easy_

_This isn't clear_

_And you don't need Jesus_

_Til you're here…_

_Then confusion and the doubts you had_

_Up and walk away_

_They walk away_

_When a heart breaks…_

The music trailed away slowly, and Blaine leaned against Kurt as he put his hands over his on the keyboard. "…Sorry for waking you."

"It's a good thing to wake up to." Kurt let him lean against him for a moment. "Feel a little better now?"

"A little bit," Blaine nodded.

"No news?"

"Nothing yet…"

"Then come back to bed." Kurt smiled, standing up and pulling him up with him. "If you're going to handle this, you need to think rationally. And rationality doesn't come without actual sleep."

It took a little prodding and convincing, but Blaine finally gave in. When he fell asleep, he was staring at his corkboard of photographs, and it was impossible to tell if he was thinking about Shane or just everything in particular. He whispered to Kurt in the dark, "When all this is over…I'm never going to think about it again."

"About what?" Kurt asked.

He didn't receive an answer. Blaine fell asleep soon after, with Kurt following suit on the other side of the bed.

* * *

The sun was coming in through the windows the next day—detestably cheery. Blaine was still asleep when Kurt awoke and saw Wes and David in the room, the Twins leaning by the doorway.

David waved slightly and made it clear to not wake Blaine. Kurt carefully moved away from Blaine's sleeping form and walked up to the two. "What is it?" he whispered.

"Just checking." David glanced at Blaine. "How's he holding up?"

"He didn't sleep until four am," Kurt sighed. "I know because I didn't."

"Caterpillar says the searchers are going through the deep areas, hoping that the mountaineers just ended up somewhere out the way. They're hoping to find more traces of them." Wes looked a little distressed. "Reed isn't in his room."

"He's in mine." Dwight murmured, appearing at the doorway. He looked disturbingly heavy-lidded, his dark circles pronounced. It was the sign of someone who had not slept. "He fell asleep there."

"Howard told us to tell the Rabbit that he's not to go to classes today," said Evan.

"He can stay and wait for news. As far as we're concerned, we'd fly him to Colorado if we can," Ethan added. "But you said that his parents didn't want him there?"

Kurt nodded. "They want him to stay and wait. I suppose they have it under control…"

The walkie on the table crackled, making everyone jump. Blaine's sleep was apparently set on trigger for that specific event, because he suddenly stirred as though startled.

"_You guys,_" said Han. "_Development._ _Blaine, are you there?_"

"I'm listening." Blaine was rubbing his eyes.

"_Number of search parties expanded, to cover more ground. Someone with some serious pull had sent in extra troops, it's almost like a small army. They've just arrived now._"

Blaine was surprised. "I…haven't heard of this." He was sure his parents didn't have that kind of particular leverage. He looked at the others. The other Windsor boys only looked at each other. None of them had sent the extra people.

Han didn't volunteer any more information. He only said, "_Well…because of their number, you can expect news within the day. We're actually really lucky, that the mountaineers were missed early. We wouldn't have as much time as we do now. There's still a big chance they're somewhere alive._ _Hang tight, Blaine._" The connection crackled again as Han resumed his radio silence.

Blaine looked at the boys. "You guys should get to class."

"We can cut and stay with you," Wes volunteered, but Blaine shook his head. "No. Go to class. I'll…I'll be fine here."

"I can stay," Kurt said, looking at him.

Blaine looked at him a long moment, as though deliberating with himself. He must have clearly wanted him to stay. But in the end, he shook his head. "…I…think I need to be alone for a while. You guys should go."

Kurt glanced away, nodding slowly. "…Fine. I understand." But he went up to Blaine and kissed him. Blaine kissed back, restraining himself from keeping Kurt with him as the other boy released him.

"I'll be here in five minutes at the instant something happens," Kurt said.

"All right."

"I'm not going to class," Dwight declared. "I have searching to do." And he swirled off again, returning to his room. He did say he wasn't giving up, and the Windsors, who could do no more than wait and prevail upon their parents to put more pressure on the search, almost envied his conviction.

* * *

No one could concentrate in class; that was evident. The professors who had the main conspirators as students noticed that they barely paid attention, and their phones were almost always out, waiting for news. After the second reprimand that should have merited confiscation, they just stopped telling them off altogether.

Reed didn't even come to class either—an inquiry to Han was answered with Reed in Blaine's room, painting, and keeping the elder brother company (in spite of elder brother's insistence that the painter should go to class). They decided to leave him to it. Artists were odd, often sensitive people, and they dealt with things their own way—not all people would understand.

When the entire school talking about the accident and how their lead Warbler's brother was missing in action, possibly dead, there was very low morale as the boys whispered in the halls.

Justin looked very distressed as he spoke with Charlie, walking down the hall amidst the gossip later that afternoon of no news. "It's gotten Hanover worried—so I can hardly imagine what it's like in your House."

"Well, it's not the bright atmosphere I was expecting—but they're rallying for Blaine," Charlie nodded, still limping on his one injured foot. "They're trying to bury him in food, but I've put a stop to it."

"Never thought of Blaine as the type who eats when stressed," Justin blinked.

"Oh no, he's the type who _forgets _to eat when stressed," Charlie shrugged. "Anyway, have you heard of anyone pulling some strings about this? Han Westwood told some of the boys that a large contingent of searchers got sent up. I know Blaine's family has pull, but not that kind. None of the other Windsors would account for it."

"Well no one in Hanover has done anything either," Justin replied, puzzled. "Spencer Willis might have the influence—he's the one with connections to the Marines—but he hasn't told me anything about sending people. Do you think I should ask him to?"

"Maybe, if still nothing turns up," Charlie murmured. "This must be eating Blaine up—I know he's got a hell of a history."

Justin nodded and saw Kurt pass them in the hall on his way to Warbler rehearsal. He was met by Wes and David, who seemed to immediately ask him questions, and Kurt only responded with a shake of the head, looking pale and worried, glancing out the window to the direction of Windsor House. Justin sighed. "The Alice is not taking it well either, I see. But seeing as how he's the boyfriend—"

"All right, why does _everyone_ know the back story?" Charlie stared.

"We're an extremely chatty lot, I take it. But I haven't heard anything new all night. News?"

"None. But Han says we should expect some."

"That boy is a little odd," said Justin thoughtfully. "He's always in his room and barely attends class."

"Apparently his constitution is very weak," Charlie made a face. "Or that is, that's what his parents like to tell faculty so they let him stay in his room and pass digital homework. But he'll show up on exams."

"Well for now…he's very useful to the cause," Justin admitted. But mentally he questioned the rationality of everyone in the campus. Who else would be crazy enough to do these kinds of things anyway?

* * *

From Windsor House, Dwight was still hanging the pendulum over the map. He had not slept more than ten minutes. He probably knew every inch of the Colorado mountainside to the point that if he were given a sheet of paper, he could draw the whole thing out of memory. But he kept his vigil in silence.

On speaker on his phone, Aimee sounded tired. "_Dwight…give it up already._ _You can't be doing this for twenty-four hours, it's just not human anymore. It doesn't work like that. Pendulums don't—"_

"Not yet!" Dwight hissed.

"_Dwight—"_

"Shh!"

Another ten minutes passed. And suddenly, Dwight made a sharp intake of breath. To anyone else, it would've seemed as though he had merely started to nod off, and the pendulum struck the map on a specific spot, but to Dwight—it meant a breakthrough.

"Aimee—Aimee!" He scrambled to his feet, knocking candles over. Hastily he stomped them out, but he was jubilant. "I've got it! I got the spot! I found him—I found Shane!"

Aimee sounded worried. "_Dwight—wait a minute, calm—"_

"Thanks, I owe you big time—I can take it from here!" Dwight immediately hung up. He circled the spot with a big red sharpie and tore the map from the table. He bolted from the room to find Blaine and the walkie talkie that communicated with Han.

That walkie talkie was currently in Blaine's room, where Reed was slowly putting down his paintbrushes. His face and clothes were streaked in color and his fingers were cold and numb, shaking as he lowered his arsenal. Before him, on an easel, was a finished painting.

He smiled tremulously. "…I did it. I finished…" _I actually finished…_

Blaine, standing behind him, saw the painting and smiled faintly. Reed had finished a painting of Shane. And it was the only finished artwork of Shane that Reed had ever done. And painted entirely out of memory, it was quite an incredible likeness. "Yeah. It's great, Reed." The painter only looked tired in answer.

Dwight came crashing into the room. "Blaine!"

Reed jumped and turned, stunned. "Dwight?"

Blaine looked stunned. "What's the matter?"

"I found Shane!" Dwight gasped. "I did it—I found him!" He grabbed the walkie-talkie from the table, nearly tripping over a beanbag chair as he did. "Han! Han, come in! Can you hear me?"

The whine of feedback from upstairs made the recluse wince tear off his earpiece, and glare daggers at the impertinent voice coming from it. "Yes_," _he said in an ingratiatingly polite voice. "I can hear you extremely well."

"I found Shane! See? I did it! Can you see me, you crazy omniscient net-addict?" Dwight was jumping up and down on the couch, flailing the map around to where presumably Han had a camera. Reed was panicking, warning Dwight to stop or he'll fall.

"You have a camera in here?" Blaine demanded.

Han just shook his head with sigh and put his hand to his head with a seething groan. "Dwight, hold _still_!" In two rapid clicks, he'd gotten a freeze frame of the flailing map. "I got it, you can _stop_ now."

Dwight slipped off the couch and fell on top of Reed, sending them both crashing next to the coffee table. Blaine pulled them both up as, from his room, Han now studied the coordinates that Dwight had encircled.

"Dwight, how did you find this?" he demanded. "This is already being combed by the searchers—Seriously, did you just throw a dart and—"

He stopped when his computer gave him an alert of a new message sent in from the searchers. He looked up at where the origin of the message was. He stared. It was coming from the square that Dwight had encircled.

"…no _way_." He grabbed the headset and said, "Wait a minute, guys." He dropped the set and clicked on the message, and read it. His heart started to pound. He slowly leaned back.

Someone had been found.

But…

He licked his dry lips and opened the second message. It was difficult deciphering this all—he only had access to one side of the messages that went back and forth. But he knew one thing as his hand shook on his mouse.

Someone had been found. A boy.

And he was dead.

Han lifted the headset again, hands shaking. "Blaine…I have to…ask you a question."

* * *

In unison, the Windsors' cell phones went off. Everyone, no matter where they currently were, pulled them out to see what it was.

_Blaine's not in the House. Have any of you seen him? Can't find him. –H_

The conspirators looked at each other. Immediately, Wes, David and the Twins bolted off to search. Kurt turned down the hall and hit "call" on his phone as he strode down, face white.

"Han!" he said the moment the Caterpillar picked up. "What do you mean you can't find him?"

"_He's not in any of my screens. I'm trying to look at what I've got on the school, but I told you, it's not like I've managed to put bugs __**everywhere**__. Didn't even cover the grounds. I don't know where he is."_

Kurt put a hand to the side of his head, looking worried. "Why would he leave…?"

Han seemed to hesitate for a long moment. _"It…may have something to do with what…I mentioned to him earlier_."

Kurt's expression immediately darkened. "…what did you tell him?"

Han looked deeply uncomfortable. _"…from the exchange I was getting, some people were confused… From what I can get, someone had brought in a body of a dark-haired boy wearing this jacket from another high school… I…had to ask which high school Blaine and Shane came from just to…make sure_."

"And…?"

"_Stanton. …the jacket was from the Stanton High School Dance Club."_

Kurt covered his mouth with his hand and sank into a chair, white in the face as he remembered the photographs on the corkboard—all the initials on the school was SHS. "Oh god…" He took deep breaths. "And Blaine…?"

"_He didn't answer me. He just…stopped talking. And then he ran out and—_"

Kurt hung up without so much as a goodbye, and he went running out of the school and into the grounds.

* * *

Partway between Windsor and Stuart, past an unfrequented garden path, there was a small memorial garden. There was a trellis crammed with flowering vines, and beneath it, a stone bench. It could hardly be called a memorial garden at all—at best it was just a place to sit that no one ever really went to. It had been out of the way, and rather forgotten, as it was in an awkward place, nearly jammed up against the wall of the school.

Blaine sat on that bench now, leaning forward, elbows braced on his knees and folded hands pressed to his lips the way someone would kiss their hands in prayer—if he was even praying. He stared blankly into the ground, trying to breathe.

Everything was still cold. He could still feel his breath leaving him too easily—too calmly for his taste—for someone who should be out with the search parties no matter what the Windsors said in protest.

His brother was out there, somewhere. It didn't matter that they found Reed's painting at the bottom of a gorge—it didn't matter that they found those torn cords and how they were now scraping the darkness in the rocks for any sign of the lost ones.

…it didn't matter that they found a body with the jacket.

He could believe he lost all his old friends—he could believe that Jude died, that Erin ran away, that Micah disappeared—but he refused to believe that he'd also lost Shane. Shane had been the only one who was really there from the very beginning. Shane, at this point, was really all he had left.

The sound of footsteps stopped in front of him. When he looked up, he wasn't sure what he was seeing was real.

"You shouldn't be out here," Logan said. He had no real expression. He was only stating a fact.

Blaine put his head in his hands. "Yeah." But he didn't move.

There was a moment of silence, and then a soft rustle, and Logan was sitting next to him on the bench.

Blaine almost turned to look at him. "...what are you doing here, then?"

Logan just stared at the dimming sky above them. "...you always came here when you were upset. When the Windsors couldn't find you, I assumed you'd be here."

"I'm surprised you remember."

Another unsettling pause. Blaine chanced to glance at him, and saw that odd haze in Logan's eyes as he stared at the sky. He wondered if this was what Kurt meant when he said Logan didn't look like himself—that medicated haze.

He hadn't even known all that time that Logan needed treatment back then. Or the reasons his father exiled him to Westerville.

He just knew he got angry, and he took it out on people. And all he knew now was that he was sitting next to him without persuasion, and he was simply being there.

"...I'm sorry to hear about your brother, Blaine," Logan murmured, still not looking at him.

After a while, Blaine murmured, "Why is it...that every time I'm sitting here, you'll show up...and there'd always be an apology happening?"

"Some things stay the same."

Blaine nodded absently, sighing to himself. "...I really hate this bench."

Logan glanced at him slightly, and nodded, hands to his knees. "...so do I."

There was a less awkward silence that followed as Logan leaned back and sighed, a cloud emitting from his lips. It was too cold to be out there.

"…Han said they found a body with Shane's old school jacket."

Logan nodded slowly.

Blaine sat staring emptily in front of him, his fist pressed to his lips. "…it's still sinking in."

"It takes a while," Logan agreed amiably.

"Why are you sitting there?" Blaine finally asked with no conviction.

Logan almost laughed, looking at his own hands. "…wish I knew." He sighed deeply and admired the view of the sky with his hazy eyes—who knew what he saw through them? "Maybe it's the drugs."

Blaine nodded slightly. Logan paused and added, "…or maybe just force of habit." He smiled faintly at Blaine. "I always find you here."

"Usually…it's your fault that I'm sitting here."

"True," Logan agreed, absently looking around what little of the garden they could see. "Ah…I did a lot of that, didn't I…?"

Blaine raised an eyebrow. "If medication makes you _this_ agreeable, then I'll pay for the prescription myself."

Logan laughed softly. "My father has that covered."

"Your dad is still on your case, huh?"

"I would throw the biggest party in Dalton history if he ever "got off my case"," Logan said emphatically. And then in a complete non sequitur, "Amazing how little I hate you when I'm like this. Maybe that's one upside."

"When _did_ we start hating each other?" Blaine asked with rather genuine confusion, trying to remember with a furrowed brow. "Because it seems to me like it was as far back as I can remember. That we didn't actually _like_ each other all that much."

"Not _entirely_," Logan corrected. "There was point in time that we were pretty all right. Temporary, yes, but it was…all right."

The talk they were having now was one that had been long overdue ever since Logan had pulled the last straw—and that was throwing Blaine against the grand piano at Warblers Hall after the cataclysmic fight of last year, one that shook down the Warblers and made them enemies without doubt.

They had separated and never looked back, even when Logan had been seeing the soloist that was their mutual friend. They never looked back at what they had done to each other, until now.

"You were never really _that_ serious about me, were you?" Blaine remarked with little doubt that it was true. "He was really the more interesting one to you."

"_He_ just happened to be my rebound," Logan answered, with a trace of his old arrogance through the mellow tone he used. "And while I was willing to give him all of my attentions—he was more fascinated by you."

"He was never interested in me," Blaine glared. "He looked at _you_ all the time."

Logan looked at him and smiled. "Kind of like how Kurt looks at you now?"

Blaine sat up. "Don't bring Kurt into—"

"I can't _not_ bring Kurt into this, Blaine…" Logan answered calmly. "Because he's the culmination of everything I tried to change ever since I returned to Dalton. He's why I'm doing most of this..." he gestured to his state, "...to myself."

Blaine narrowed his eyes at him. Logan patiently explained, "I'm shallow, spoiled and petty—you're the one who tries to be mature, collected and supportive. Maybe that was why it didn't work. You were somewhere I couldn't actually get to." He smiled faintly. "_That_ quality of yours, at least… I can honestly say…I admired from the very beginning."

Logan rose from the bench. "So don't lose your cool now… I find it really irritating and for someone who can't totally feel right now, that's saying something. Shane would disapprove."

He checked his watch. "My advice—fly to Colorado and see it with your own eyes. With the Twins' help, it'll be at most seven hours back and forth."

Blaine watched him walk a way off, then stood up as a thought came to him. "Logan."

The taller boy turned slightly on his heel in askance. Blaine stared at him. "…were you the one who called for the extra people to search?"

And to his surprise, the Stuart prefect smiled. "…having a US Senator for a father, even one who's a total asshat, does have advantages. I'm sure he'll find _some_ way to use his 'charitable' efforts to his advantage in the political race."

Blaine stared, stunned. "…why are you doing this?"

"Firstly? I can't stand watching your dramatics. It's really, genuinely annoying. Secondly, it makes Kurt even more glued to you than usual, and that would be to my disadvantage. And since Kurt hasn't entirely shown that he despises my company, I'll keep fighting for that, medication or not. And thirdly…"

And here Logan turned away from him as he walked, "…you seem to have forgotten that a very _very_ long time ago in some parallel dimension that vanished into a crack in the planet…that I had loved you, once. It's a terrible, horrendous thing of the past…but it had been there."

This was almost too much and Blaine could only stare after him, aghast. Logan stopped at the corner and smiled faintly.

"I'll tell the Twins to prepare your plane, and hint to Kurt where you are. I don't like seeing him worried, over you of all people. It's a waste." And he left.

* * *

A couple of hours later, Kurt in front of a car door, hugging Blaine tightly. The Windsors stood behind him, giving them room. Reed and Dwight stood with them, Dwight looking crushed, and Reed's paint-stained self clutching onto him, tears pouring from his eyes. Han was not present.

The Twins had told their parents the situation, and told them that they needed a private plane to get Blaine to Colorado immediately and back. Surprised at the selflessness of the request, the parents complied.

Blaine released Kurt from the embrace. He held his hands, looking a little doubtful. "…are you sure you don't want to…?"

Kurt shook his head. "This isn't something I should be involved in. It's…between you and your family. If it had been me… I wouldn't have wanted you around to see me have to identify my dead brother." Just the mere thought, Kurt realized, getting a cold weight in his stomach. If he had to identify _Finn _or something…

He shook his head. But he put his hands on Blaine's shoulders. "But I better be your first call out, you understand?"

"Couldn't think of anyone else to call anyway…" Blaine murmured. He hugged Kurt again and kissed him, holding him tightly for a moment. He whispered, "I love you" when he let him go. He had never meant it more, especially at this time, when it appeared that he could lose anyone—anyone at all.

Kurt nodded, replying with a smile, "I love you too."

Blaine pulled away and nodded at his friends. Wes and David gave him a quick tight hug each, patting his back heavily in support, before stepping back, looking awkward and unsure of what to do next. Blaine only turned to the others, gave them a small smile, and got in the car.

And just like that, Blaine left for the airport.

Charlie herded the unhappy troop of Windsors back to the House, sobered down himself by the events of late. Dwight was downright inconsolable, he was clearly holding back his snuffling even as he strode into the House. He went upstairs without looking at anyone and slammed his door shut.

Wes turned to Reed, putting a hand on his shoulder. "You all right, man?"

Reed just shook his head and walked upstairs. Kurt looked at Wes. "I'll take care of this. You and David just…wait with the Twins."

Kurt headed upstairs, but the Twins chased him at the landing. "Hey Alice."

"What?"

"…Pavarotti's in your room. Make sure you feed him."

Kurt gaped at them. "You put him in my room? Why?"

"We took him to every room in the House," Evan said. "We tried to see where he'd like to stay!"

"He stopped chirping and settled in his cage when we put him in your room!" Ethan threw up his hands, staring. "Maybe he sensed there was the _least_ danger in there?"

"In a room with Reed…mm-hmm…" Kurt rolled his eyes and just continued upstairs. He hurried after his roommate and found him in their room flopped facedown on the bed, getting paint all over his white comforter. And just like the Twins said, the prize Warbler was in the cage, seeming to watch the on-goings with some interest. Kurt sighed and shut the door. For his purpose of being ballast alone, these were the longest days in Dalton yet.

Kurt saw the painting facedown on the couch, and knew what it was before he picked it up. He blinked at the canvas. "Well…you finished it."

There was an unintelligible grumble from the bedspread. Kurt put the painting down and lay on the bed next to Reed. "I know you're easily moved, and I'm pretty upset by all this too, but is there a specific reason that you just have not stopped getting tears and paint everywhere you go…?"

The mumble was still gibberish. Kurt prodded his shoulder with a camel-hair brush. Reed rolled over, eyes wet and swollen.

"I didn't even get to say goodbye," he repeated to the ceiling of his canopied bed. He flailed with one paint-stained hand. "He just _left_. And I thought, hey, maybe I'll see him again. That would be nice. By then maybe I'd understand what the hell is _wrong with me_…" He rolled over again and continued the monologue into more unintelligible muttering.

Kurt nodded slowly, trying to analyze him. "…you finished the painting, Reed. You told me you couldn't. Does it mean that you've…figured out what to say?"

The "mmph" on the bedsheet meant "I think." Reed rolled over again, and was now lying next to Kurt, curls spread. "…but it doesn't matter anymore." He ripped out some tissues from the box by the bedside table and blew his nose. "There's no point."

"Blaine went to identify a _body_." Kurt pointed out. "We still…we can't be sure if it's…" He looked around the ceiling and sighed. "You really do like him, do you?"

"…is that bad…? When I haven't figured things out yet…?" Reed looked at him questioningly. "…is it bad that I like him when I haven't cleared with myself what…I am?"

"You're talking to someone who single-mindedly chased after straight guys," Kurt muttered. "I'm not going to be much help if you're trying to find sense in how you feel about someone."

"So…it's okay?"

"Only if _you're_ okay with it," Kurt turned to him, raising an eyebrow slightly.

Reed smiled sadly. "…yeah. I am. But…" He leaned against Kurt's shoulder. "…I lost my chance. I just…kept thinking about the time we spent with him in New York… He's nothing like me, you know. He's out there, he's loud, he's crazy, he so sure of himself… He moves fast—I mean, he keeps managing to get me upright before I even properly fall over. He was just…someone completely different. He _sounded_ sure the moment he saw me… and up until now I still don't see what he sees."

"Welcome to the mating life of the teenage boy," Kurt snorted. "When you figure out exactly how to determine exactly what goes on in the head of the person you like, let me know so we can patent it and become incredibly, crazy rich." He paused, then rolled his eyes. "Well, more than you are now."

Reed sighed and took Kurt's hand. "…does being heartbroken always feel this bad…?"

Kurt stared at the ceiling, squeezing his hand. There were a lot of memories to draw from. "…yeah. But even though it really hurts like crazy right now…it goes away. It takes a while, but it does." He glanced at him. "On the upside…singing about it can help."

"Seriously…?" Reed looked at him incredulously.

"Yeah it does, paint-face," Kurt smiled. "In my old glee club we just broke out into song when we found we had to sing about it. I know I did. You guys sing whenever you feel like it too, right?" He sat up. "Why? Was there something you wanted to sing to him all this time?"

Reed sat up and turned away, and stared at the painting.

* * *

It was nearing midnight. The Orion Ballroom was empty, but the stage was still there. It was almost boring for the Twins to open it for them. But the Windsor conspirators all went in, as Reed mounted the stage. Kurt stood on the floor across him, smiling up at him. He liked having his own solos, but he thought that right now, he wanted to hear Reed sing a solo.

David fired up the lights, which shone just at Reed, illuminating his eyes and the mist that had gathered in them. Reed looked out at this brightness and smiled faintly. The boys below him urged him on.

Reed smiled a bit more and took a breath, remembering who he was singing to—both himself, and to Shane, who must have been stumbling in the dark himself with no one to turn to. In the same way Shane had protected him for that one, short precious instant during the New Year, he had wanted to reach out so badly to return the favor.

He lifted his head and began to sing.

_Don't give up_

_It's just the weight of the world_

_When your heart's heavy_

_I...I will lift it for you…_

In Colorado, far off, Blaine walked into the large outpost being used as the headquarters for the search and rescue operation. He looked around and saw his parents. He tensed at the sight of his father, but when he saw his mother's wet eyes, he lowered his head and then managed to give her a small smile of comfort.

He walked to them and as he did, he saw the expression in his father's eyes. For the first time, they did not look at Blaine with coldness. They looked as though they really _saw_ him, for once.

_Don't give up_

_Because you want to be heard_

_If silence keeps you_

_I...I will break it for you…_

Logan leaned on the window of his room, staring at the moon. Photographs were scattered across his feet. They had the faces from last year. They had once been precious to him, but they meant nothing now, in his blurred, numbed state.

But in his clenched hand, he held the music sheets of the song Medel had him and Kurt sing. And though them he could feel, for once. He looked down at the message from his father.

"_I don't know what had gotten into you… But the search party—it was a good call."_

Logan smiled to himself.

_Everybody wants to be understood_

_Well I can hear you_

_Everybody wants to be loved_

_Don't give up_

_Because you are loved_

_You are loved…_

Kurt smiled and watched Reed sing. He was singing with so much emotion that it was taking most of his breath out, but he kept singing. He sang his heart out.

_Don't give up_

_It's just the hurt that you hide_

_When you're lost inside_

_I...I will be there to find you_

Blaine approached his parents with a questioning expression, and his mother hugged him tightly. To his surprise, she was smiling at him. Smiling, hands on his face as though grateful. Blaine felt confused for a moment at their reaction to him.

She was telling him that it was all going to be taken care of. He wanted to see the body with the jacket, but his parents just shook their heads, saying that he didn't have to see anything. He almost protested—he wanted to see it for himself.

_Don't give up_

_Because you want to burn bright_

_If darkness blinds you_

_I...I will shine to guide you_

Dwight lay on his bed, hugging a picture frame to his chest. It was one of himself, when he was thirteen, flushed with life and happiness, hugging a small boy of seven, carrying him—a boy who looked like him, but infinitely happier, with bright eyes that laughed. The both of them were wearing wizard cloaks and waving wands. There were identical crystal pendulums around their necks.

The silver writing on the photo said, _me and Alan, Halloween._

Dwight closed his eyes and let the tears run down the side of his head, clutching the frame tightly, and the pendulum that wasn't even his.

"I'm sorry… I'm so sorry… I should have tried harder, Alan... I'm so sorry… I'm making it up to you, I promise…"

_Everybody wants to be understood_

_Well I can hear you_

_Everybody wants to be loved_

_Don't give up_

_Because you are loved..._

Reed closed his eyes and sang with all he had, flooded by light.

Blaine's mother touched his shoulder quickly and turned him towards the door.

And at the door, being helped in by the medics, with a vast smattering of scratches and wounds all over, a bandaged arm, leg and head, but still utterly, completely whole, was Shane, looking at his brother in amazement.

Blaine's mouth fell open, a hundred emotions flooding him in the span of a second—all the time it took to meet his brother's eyes—before it all broke through and he ran to him.

_You are loved_

_Don't give up_

_It's just the weight of the world…_

The one they had found—the other mountaineer—was one of Shane's classmates, the person he'd saved when their climbing cords snapped in the rockslide. Shane had given everything he had to keep his friend from falling—and snapped a tendon in his arm in the process. Both had fallen down the rocks of the mountainside, and when the slide ended, they struggled to get back to a trail. They didn't even know what happened to the others.

Shane had left his jacket with his classmate to protect him from the cold. But when Shane, the one best able to move between them, went stumbling through the woods to find help, his friend died of internal bleeding. Shane was found hours later by one of the searchers. The rest of the mountaineers were being found, one at a time, at Shane's indication of where he had come from.

As Shane fell onto his brother, the first thing he said was, "Hey Blaine… I thought I lost you for a bit there."

Unable to stop himself, Blaine just hugged him, tears running down his face.

He hadn't lost his brother.

_Don't give up_

_Everyone needs to be heard_

_You are loved…_

"…and I learned that life is pretty damn short…so if it's okay by you…after they stitch me up…can you take me to see Reed? Because damn it—I'm just not ready to die a rejected man."

That was the second thing Shane said, and he was adamant about it. And that was the reason why in the clear Ohio morning that followed—in spite of every medical precaution against it, in spite of their parents protesting very vociferously against it, and after all testimonies were taken—Blaine stepped out of the car in front of Windsor house, and helped Shane out, in crutches, an arm sling, and endless bandages.

Kurt ran out noiselessly, still in pajamas, to meet them. He was smiling when he hugged Blaine tightly, kissing him, endlessly relieved at the sight of them both and gave Shane a gentler hug as well. Wes and David, leaning at the foyer, welcomed them all in, grinning. Shane grinned back, still scratched in one cheek.

_Don't give up…_

As Shane entered the hall and headed for the stairs, Dwight emerged from the kitchen with a cup of coffee and saw him. Shane caught his eye and he grinned at him with a nod before continuing up the steps. Dwight dropped the mug with a crash, eyes wide and mouth open. He fell back onto the wall, clutching the pendulum to his chest and he slid down onto the floor.

As Wes and David stared at him, perplexed at his incredible reaction, Dwight pulled his knees to his chest and burst into tears.

The Twins smiled down at him from the mezzanine.

_You are loved…_

Kurt let Shane into their sunlit room. From the window, Pavarotti chirped a small, questioning greeting at the newcomer. Reed was on his bed, having slept in—so emotionally drained that nothing woke him. He had cleaned the paint from his hands, and looked silent and serene, sunbeams resting just right on his strawberry curls. The tear streaks had dried. He was the most peaceful, awkward boy in the world, or so it seemed at that moment.

Blaine helped Shane to the side of the bed. There, Shane knelt down, took Reed's hand in his and laid his chin on the bed, just watching with his green-gray eyes and letting Reed sleep as he stared.

He stared as though he would never see enough.

And then, a stir, a flutter of eyelashes in the sun.

Shane smiled softly. "…hi."

* * *

_On the next episode: When Harvey and Medel decree coveted duets for the approaching St. Valentines, there was definitely going to be some problems as the duels return with a vengeance: Kurt is determined not to leave without a lead, and certainly at least two people will be fighting to sing with him. Stuart still isn't happy about the missing Pavarotti, and the Windsor was not quite willing to give him up just yet. If this kept up, someone was going to have to call for "war" just before Valentines, and that was never a good sign._


	20. Double Acts

_Hi, I'm CP Coulter, your author for this fic._

_First of all, I truly apologize for how long this episode took to be put up. It's been nearly two weeks, and I am sorry for being so so late. My life has been hectic, catching up on everything, and I have not been able to focus on this fic as much as I should have. I have been receiving so many messages over in tumblr and twitter asking about the episode and I feel that I've somehow disappointed everyone in my inability to update as quickly as I used to, and for that so so apologize._

_I'm so very grateful for all the support and kind words that the Glee fandom has given me; I truly don't know what else to say except thank you. All the fanworks, the projects, and most importantly the words of support and love sent to me, and the stories of the amazing people who, though anonymous, saw it in their hearts to share with me their personal stories, of how they could relate to the situations in Dalton. I'm so grateful for each and every one of you._

_Episode 20 ushers in the final leg of Dalton's season (there will only be 29 episodes). I suppose this is why so many things happened in this particular one-with over 24,000 words, it's the longest one yet, as well as the most "musical" (and it **is** a Duel episode). I really do hope, with all of my heart, that in spite of its length and tardiness, you will still enjoy this episode._

_Also, let us congratulate Chris Colfer for winning the Golden Globe for Best Supporting Actor. He and Darren Criss continue to be my inspirations._

**_(I do not own Glee)_**

* * *

**Dalton**

**Episode 20: Double Acts**

* * *

The good thing about having the kitchen repaired was that it became wonderful to sit on one of the stools in it, propping elbows onto the marble countertop and inhaling the first pump of caffeine to officially begin entering reality from unconsciousness. Not that the mere sight of Shane walking into the House, completely unexpected, with Blaine wouldn't be equivalent to an intravenous injection of fifty pounds of the stuff. Still, once the relief sinks in, laziness returns, and everyone feels too good to do anything serious.

Impossible—they would still have to go to class and today's Warblers' practice will involve something important as the broadcast from Harvey said.

The Twins sat next to each other at the kitchen, making hot cocoa for themselves. Their hands moved steadily without stopping, having memorized a certain exact mix and temperature that they both liked. They were an interesting sight, the other grabbing an ingredient that the other had just put down moments ago, steadily blending, and when they were done, they swapped cups and only then began to drink.

Wes sighed deeply as he too sat on a kitchen stool, still wearing silk pajamas, staring into nothing as he drank his cup of coffee and his eyes getting a bit clearer. David poured himself his own cup, still wearing only socks and pajamas, and hands wrapped tightly around the heat of his drink.

"…Windsor is only ever this quiet in the mornings, don't you think…?" Wes said absently as David took a sip.

"I guess…at least it is in the mornings before Kurt wakes up and finds all the coffee cups again," David muttered, determined to get as much caffeine in his blood as possible within the next thirty seconds. The Twins nodded at his inference.

"Alice has such wonderful reactions," Ethan murmured.

"And he's staying with the Dormouse now," Evan added.

"Should be interesting…"

"Pity the Dormouse being in the crossfire…"

"Why aren't you bothering them right now?" Wes queried, half looking at them suspiciously.

"They're all up there having a moment," the twins shrugged lightly. As much as they would've liked to interfere, someone _did_ just come from a life-or-death situation.

Dwight re-entered the kitchen, eyes red and swollen, still sniffling. He was carrying the broken pieces of his mug and he dumped them unceremoniously into the trash can. He grumbled a little, picking up a different cup from the shelf. He sat next to them, poured in the dark liquid, stared at his coffee, and after a long drawn pause, "…good morning."

"Are you all right…?" Wes asked, staring at him. "You started bawling like a three-year-old the moment you saw Shane."

"Nah, I was just…" another sniffle, a harrumph and Dwight attempted to compose himself. "No big deal." But his hands shook even as he drank. He looked at David. "You're downing that really _fast_. Are you going somewhere or do you enjoy scalding your digestive tract?"

"Have to go out to the hospital," David answered blurrily. "Katherine's doctor told us he wanted to talk to us about something. It sounded important, so I'm not going to morning class."

"Is that legal?" Dwight asked hoarsely with a raised eyebrow. "I heard Newman will talk about the Environmental Studies exams."

"I'd like to see Newman throw me curveball after all the time I spent reading his textbook while in the hospital," David muttered.

And then from upstairs:

"_SHANE—!"_

The sound of crashing bodies and panic rung out from upstairs.

"Whoa!—_OW_!" that sounded like Shane, flattened on the ground.

"Oh my gosh!_—_I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I—" that was definitely Reed, struggling to get up.

"Reed, what's the _matter_ with you? You don't just leap at the injured!" Kurt's distressed tone demanded.

"I didn't notice that he—I just—_holy_—he's alive—here, a-and—!"

"Up, get up—come on…" Blaine was struggling to sound both stern while being not completely unamused.

"Well there goes my spleen…"

"Shut up, Shane—!" Blaine snapped over Reed's anxious whine.

"I'm the injured here, I'm allowed to side-comment!"

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, oh my gosh, I didn't mean to—"

"Here, stay over _here_ and don't get overexcited…"

Wes, with a slow smirk, turned to the others, who looked deeply amused at the commotion upstairs, heard so clearly over the quiet of the morning. "Safe to say Reed's awake…"

"Is there anyone else in Windsor who can be at the bottom of some physical injury within three seconds of waking up…?" Dwight mumbled.

David gestured to the Twins, but Dwight just rolled his eyes. "I meant actual humans, not demon spawn."

The twins only looked pleased. Presently, Kurt and Blaine came downstairs looking absolutely long-suffering as they did. Wes smiled genially at his friends. "So…?"

"Shane being the way he is right now and then putting him in a room with Reed…" Blaine sighed as he sat, taking the coffee pot and pouring himself and Kurt a cup each. "It really makes betting on who gets more injuries before noon interesting."

"And you left them alone together?" David blinked, questioning their judgment even as he brought his cup to his lips.

"Shane made it very clear, with all the glares he could produce, that he would like me to leave," Blaine answered.

"And if Reed's eyes got any bigger at me, I feared they'd _actually_ pop out of his head, so…" Kurt rolled his eyes and pulled over the cup Blaine gave him, taking deep draughts of the drink.

The entire group then lowered their cups with simultaneous clanks onto the marble and heaved deep sighs. It was the morning after the mayhem. And life had returned to a relatively ordinary state. They may have all just woken up, but they all felt as though they were truly exhausted, for one reason or another.

They all sat like that for what must have been a while, staring at nothing, saying nothing, all silent.

Charlie walked into the kitchen to find them all like that. He was already dressed in uniform, and limping only slightly, hoping to get a bite to eat before departing for class. He gave the distant conspirators a long, narrow eyed stare. Then he snapped his fingers loudly. They all looked up.

"Hello?" he said, raising his eyebrows and gesturing expectantly. "You all have classes? If you can remember that far back?"

This woke them and all of them began to quickly finish. "Right!" David sprang to life. He picked up a folder on the countertop and handed it to Wes, "Hey, can you take this to Newman?"

"Can't," said Wes, getting off his stool.

"Why not?" David demanded. "I turn in _your_ homework when you can't."

"Can't," Wes said with finality, draining his cup and setting it down. "I'm coming with you. Good news or bad—you shouldn't be alone to hear it."

David raised his eyebrows a moment, but then smiled faintly if not doubtfully. "All right, then." He tossed the folder to Blaine. "Newman?"

Blaine just nodded as he caught it, waving them both on dismissively, finishing his own coffee. "Go…get out of here, go…"

"Whoa, hey," Charlie looked at the two of them, frowning. "You're skipping this morning? David—this Is your GPA we're talking about here. But what's with Katherine?"

But the Warbler just shook his head. "Mrs. Rivers called me around New Years. She…" He paused a little, lightly drumming his knuckles on the edge of the countertop. He saw all the expectant stares and sighed. "She had apparently not been telling anyone that she's been…having problems."

"Problems?" Charlie asked, confused.

David glanced around the room a little uncomfortably. He didn't look at them. "The accident from a while back…she had surgery then but lately she's having…cardiac arrhythmia. She…needed a second surgery."

Kurt lowered his cup and stared at him in surprise. Blaine put his hand over his and their eyes met for a moment—Blaine just shook his head. David just kept his eyes down, shaking his head and shrugging lightly, as though he couldn't believe it either.

Charlie looked sorry he asked, embarrassed. He shook his head and just waved him off the way Blaine did. "Go. Get out of here."

"Me?" Wes asked.

Charlie sighed. The things he did for these people. "Fine. Go. I'll…tell Howard it was an emergency."

David nodded and hurried to get out of the kitchen, but was accosted by the Twins. They only stared at him as they stood in his way, but he frowned at them. "I can handle it. I don't need your help."

"But if you do…" Evan began, but stopped when he saw David's glare.

Ethan was less intimidated. "…you know you can just ask."

"Fine." David hissed as he pushed past them. Wes chased after him, nodding to the Tweedles, "I'll handle it," as he went past them.

Kurt got off his stool and said, "I'll go…get ready for class."

"Wait a second," said Charlie, looking at him. "Blaine, Dwight and you two Tweedles—you can go to class. Kurt, right? When you get dressed, you come with me. Howard wants to see you."

Kurt looked up at him, confused as the others got up. "Why?"

"It's about your assessment exam. He has your results. He's waiting in his office. Go see him before class, he says."

At this, Kurt glanced to the others, who just stared back at him. Blaine walked up to him and hugged him. "Good luck," he murmured.

Kurt, hugging him in return, nodded, only that little bit anxious. "All right, then. Moment of truth."

The twins looked at him wide, anxious eyes. "Good luck, Alice. Please don't leave us."

Kurt gave them a look and just shrugged lightly. "After all that? I couldn't if I tried."

* * *

_I'm Kurt. And this is Dalton Academy._

_Storm's over, but now we've got to deal with the aftermath._

_I've finished my exams and Blaine's brother was found alive._

_Ordinarily, I'd say we're pretty much out of the woods._

_But I know Alice in Wonderland too, you know—_

_And I know that just when you think it's over, you find out there's more._

* * *

The House head's office was full of books, looking like a small library. The colors for Windsor house were bannered on one side of the wall, and the early morning sunlight was streaming in through the windows, throwing them over the rich redwood desk. Howard was very carefully scrutinizing some papers when Charlie knocked at his open door, Kurt standing next to him and clutching his bag strap. The teacher glanced up and motioned for the two of them to come inside. "Come inside, both of you."

Kurt and Charlie entered the office and sat at the two chairs that faced his table. Howard pulled off his reading glasses with a sigh, putting them down on the table and motioning to Kurt using the papers he was holding. "These are your exams. What did you think of the exams, Hummel?"

At this, the "Alice" merely raised his eyebrows. "They were…adequately challenging." He glanced at Charlie, who was staring at him, at the corner of his eyes. The prefect didn't look all that apprehensive.

Howard considered and nodded a little. "Well, clearly they were "adequate" to you, seeing as how you were the only one out of the three new kids to actually score an average of ninety."

Charlie looked surprised and quite deeply relieved, with Kurt's jaw dropping. His eyes lit up and was about to say something but Howard stopped him. "Wait. Before you get _too_ happy…."

The two stared at him, confused. Howard looked a little uncomfortable. "Now, Hummel, I tried talking to the man, but he was adamant. You scored the best among the three new students and your exams proved that, but Professor Murdoch said that while you scored…_adequately_ in his exam, he's not quite satisfied."

"What do you mean?" Kurt frowned.

Howard folded his hands over the table. "You've done excellently, and your academics will probably get a little easier here on out. But Professor Murdoch's exam was your lowest, and he wants you to be tutored more carefully for his class."

Kurt stared, sensing what was coming, and he almost rose from his seat as Howard added, "…which is why you're to report to Stuart House after school for the next two weeks, for a tutoring session on the subject with the prefect, Logan Wright."

* * *

"I'm really sorry…"

"I'm telling you, stop apologizing to me," Shane said, pretending to look sternly at the boy that was now trying to help him fix his bandages. Reed had, with an incredibly un-graceful leap, all but pounced on him after his senses got over the momentary shock of seeing Shane alive next to his bed. Sure the other boy had been knocked sprawling, but it would appear that Shane would have been quite willing to endure further damage if it got Reed to make such a reaction to him.

Kurt had come in only briefly to get changed for school, and he paid the two of them—Reed giving Shane fresh bandages—absolutely no mind until he was about to leave, telling them to not kill Pavarotti while they were left in there.

Shane made no promises.

"To be honest, I'm glad it was just me you jumped," Shane said, grinning broadly. "Because my reflexes are _shot_ right now. Anyone else might've ducked out of the way, and you would've hit the floor and then we'll be the one bandaging _you_…"

Reed made a gesture that threatened to hit him with the medical kit, but Shane just burst out laughing. As Reed fixed the torn bandages on his arm, Shane added absently, clearly not thinking it over, "Wow, if you react like that to someone like _me_, I wonder what you'd do if it was your girlfriend."

At this, the smaller boy turned deep scarlet. He didn't raise his eyes or answer, and was so quiet for such a time that Shane frowned a little. "No? No girlfriend? Or is that not the right term?"

He blinked when he received no response. He started to feel apprehensive. "Boyfriend, then? Is it a boyfriend you have? Or…am I shooting myself at the foot here and should I just shut my trap the way Blaine keeps telling me to—and yet I'm still talking! Wow, amazing. I'm so sorry…" He looked down at Reed and pulled away his arm.

Reed, however, shook his head and just pulled the arm back, continuing what he was doing. Shane fidgeted, uncomfortable at his silence. "…Reed…"

"It's not your problem if you can't figure it out, because even _I_ can't…" Reed murmured softly. He could tell this confused Shane, so he added, "I'm still working on it. I…still don't know how to identify myself but you know," and he looked up with a small smile, "I think Kurt's right. The label is unnecessary and pretty much as long as I have everyone…I feel I'll be okay and it'll get figured out. And no…" he turned red, finishing the bandaged arm. "I have neither one."

At the sight of the smile and the change in his tone, Shane felt better. "Well at _least_ tell me someone like _you_ have been kissed. I mean if you haven't been, there's no hope for the rest of the world, you realize."

Reed's blush surprised him. Shane stared and said, "No… You're not saying—"

"It's not really…something I've ever thought about," Reed murmured. "It's never—I mean… I've never been…actually…well, that. Like ever. Kurt and I may have that in common." He stopped, and rolled his eyes. "Well not anymore, after Blaine and he…"

"Really." Shane stared.

"Why do you think I was so worried during the New Years?" Reed laughed hollowly, loosening the bandage around Shane's head at last even as his hands shook. Some of the betadine had matted down the black curls. He had to smile. "A party with the lights going out and everyone grabbing for a kiss… Turns out I didn't have to worry."

Shane was one breath away. They were that close. "…did you think…I was going to kiss you?"

Reed turned deep red. "Oh…well… The thought… Well, that kind of a party—"

Shane was closer now, but he looked serious. Reed just smiled faintly. "What?"

"I wouldn't have ever thought of kissing you then, you know."

Why was it that humans have these emotions that they couldn't name? That surprise, disappointment and relief all at the same time? Words are insensitive to these things. If Reed had been given his way, he'd name them all. He's had all of them, after all.

"Oh…" he murmured. "Well, good."

Shane was still close. "You know I act the way I do, but I won't hurt you. You know that, right?" He gestured a little. "I don't want to get awkward. I'm trying to be good, remember?" he smiled a bit.

It was so different from the other smile—the bright one. Reed was a little puzzled, but he blushed and looked down at his hands. "Yeah. You're being good. And that's…much to Blaine's endless relief, I'm sure."

Shane finally leaned back. He was a little red and now he wouldn't look at him. Reed blinked. "What's wrong?"

The taller boy just shrugged lightly, shaking his head. "What?" Reed laughed, elbowing him. Shane overdramatically winced as though mortally wounded. Reed laughed even more.

But Shane just shook his head, face still red. "…don't do that. With anyone else."

"Do what?"

Shane didn't look at him. "…when I leaned that close to you—it was that close. And you—you never pulled back at all. You just…" he shrugged. "Let it happen." He glanced at him briefly. "You shouldn't let anyone invade your space that way. Even with the maniacs in here. Aren't you scared they'd do something, being that close?"

Reed blinked serenely at him, his response finite—mainly because it was true. "I'm never scared if it's you."

At such words, Shane stared at Reed, trying with great difficulty not to smile, and that smile began to broaden until he had such a huge goofy grin on his face that Reed turned scarlet and got up to put away the kit. "Oh shut up, Shane."

"What?" Shane grinned blissfully, looking absolutely ridiculous. "I wasn't—"

"Yes you were. And you should just…" he gestured halfheartedly, knowing he'd dug himself a hole, "…_slow down _that_…_whatever goes on in that…that curly head of yours…"

"You have one too." Shane remarked with a smirk.

Reed sighed, but not unkindly. "I can see why Blaine has problems with you."

But he smiled at him and Shane was never gladder that he was the first person he wanted to see. It might not have been some wild declaration of love that Shane wanted, but it was clear that Reed, whatever he thought of him, was willing to put up with him.

* * *

Charlie walked down the hall with Kurt even though he clearly didn't have to. As the halls began to fill with boys in uniforms, heading to their respective classrooms, Charlie glanced around as though making sure the coast was clear before he could say what he had on his mind.

"All right, Hummel," he began, "I've heard…you know, a bit of what happened while I was gone. The issue with you and Blaine?"

"The fact that I'm now seeing him is an issue?" Kurt raised an eyebrow with a slight smile, not sure how to talk to the prefect.

But Charlie just smiled. "Yeah, that." But he still turned serious. "Anyway, this tutoring thing with Logan. I want you to know, that the moment he goes over or anything—you tell me, got it?"

Kurt gave him a funny look. "…what?"

"I know that you're with Blaine now, and that Logan fought through between you both for a while, I can understand that much from the Twins and Wes and David." Charlie looked grave. "We've had trouble with Logan before, and I'm not going to let this happen again. It hadn't been pretty and…and well, I don't think you should be involved in something like it. So the moment he goes too far, you come straight to me, understand? Not the Twins, not Blaine—_me_. And I will deal with it."

Kurt crossed his arms with a nearly exasperated sigh. "I think _I_ can—"

"No, you can_not_," Charlie said firmly. "I don't care how strong you think you are. But I know Logan far better than you do. He can be all right one minute, but you can't guarantee the next. I have _seen_ him throw Blaine through some oak doors."

Kurt stared, aghast. "_What_?"

Charlie shook his head quickly, waving it away. "That was in the past. When he was still very angry, and to be quite honest, Blaine fought back. He was _lucky_ Justin hauled me back or I would've—" he looked very tense, and just shook his head with a slow exhale. "I'm just saying is that while I hear from Justin that he's been…changing for the better, which is great news, the transition isn't going to come quickly, or smoothly."

Charlie considered him. "Also from what I hear, you're headstrong and a bit of diva. That's fine—he needs someone to put him in his place. I know you can handle yourself around him. But I just want you to know that if _anything_ goes too far, I _have_ the first person you go to. The Windsor boys don't like him, and if you go telling any of them, especially Blaine, cools will be lost."

Kurt looked at him questioningly. "…what do you mean, especially Blaine?"

"You haven't seen all sides to your boyfriend yet, that's all I'm telling you."

That was new. Kurt thought back to when he and Blaine were talking in his room, and he remembered those words that Blaine said.

_And I can't let Logan have his way—you'll see something terrible come out of me the next time he tries, I'm telling you that now. I don't want you to ever see it, but at this point, I think it'll happen._

So Blaine can get angry too. Kurt smiled faintly in spite of the thought. Blaine had always tried very hard to remain calm and make sure nothing goes wrong, and things went as smoothly as he could manage. But he must have his limits too.

He lifted his head and smiled at Charlie confidently. "Fine. But I can take it from here."

"All right, then." Charlie smiled and patted his shoulder. "Good to finally talk to you, Kurt." And he walked off . As he went a few paces down the hall, Kurt had a sudden thought and turned back to him. "Hey Charlie?"

"Yeah?" the prefect asked, turning back to him, walking backwards a little.

"Did Blaine fight back when Logan threw him at the doors?"

Charlie broke into a grin that was Windsor through and through. "Kurt, he pushed David and Wes off, ran back in and _hurled _Logan into a music stand."

Kurt nodded with a little smirk and headed off to class. Someone _had _to have landed in Ramsey's office after that fight, but the thought of Blaine getting his own back wasn't bad. Fair was fair, after all.

* * *

David peered into the hospital room carefully. Amanda Rivers looked up from where she was reading the newspaper. She was a warm, gentle woman with short brown hair and kind blue eyes, and she smiled at David immediately.

David, who saw that the girl on the bed was asleep, quickly put a finger to his lips to tell her not to say anything as it might wake her. He stepped inside, and Wes peeked in next. Mrs. Rivers smiled even more and waved to him. Wes waved back and followed David into the cold impartiality of the hospital room.

"How is she…?" David whispered softly as he approached.

"I suppose she's a little anxious…" Mrs. Rivers answered. She sighed. "The doctor…said he was coming in anytime around now."

David nodded with a small smile and walked over to the girl on the bed as Wes settled himself on those hard, not-at-all-comfortable hospital chairs with the thin cushions. With the sight of her peaceful expression, her golden brown hair in rich waves now pouring over her pillow, and those long lashes curled up as she slept, David smiled almost bitterly.

It just wasn't fair that she was the one who had to suffer through this. It had been his fault. When he touched her hand slightly, she stirred as though she had merely nodded off waiting for him. Her eyes brightened up in recognition of him. "Hi, David…you're here again?"

David bent down and kissed her briefly before smiling. "Tired of me yet?"

"Don't be dumb," she laughed softly. She saw his friend sitting on the chair, grinning, and smiled too. "Hi, Wes…you taking care of your crazy friend?"

While glad to see her spirits still up, Wes gave her an incredulous look, "Are you nuts? He's positively impossible. How you stand him is beyond me."

This made her laugh. She looked up at David, smiling. David squeezed her hand and said, "How are you feeling?"

"Same…" Katherine shrugged slightly. "…I want to get out of here. I can't stay here much longer, I'll go crazy. It's boring… I just lie here, watch TV…stare at the ceiling…"

David nodded. "Yeah. Hey, maybe the doctor's going to let you off the hook. Never know." He shrugged.

Wes smiled faintly at David. It was a little unsettling, to see him act so casually and optimistic around Katherine, when their discussions in their dorm room showed great evidence of his anxiety. Only Blaine could beat David in a game of nothing-is-wrong-on-the-outside. Wes had to watch all that, and listen, and see his endeavors to try and get something out of David going unheeded.

David sat on the stool next to Katherine as he regaled her about what had been happening in Windsor lately. He told her everything, and she always liked hearing about them. She was particularly worried about the brewing trouble between Blaine, Kurt and Logan—mainly because she had to watch what happened last year too.

"You'd think Blaine and Logan would've had enough of each other already…" Katherine sighed, shaking her head. "And now they've got that poor boy in the middle."

"Believe me, it looks like Kurt can handle himself," David grinned. "I told you about how he chewed out Tabitha that time."

Wes groaned loudly as Katherine laughed, saying, "Yes, I remember. Wes, come on—you've been on and off with Tabitha forever. She's not the only one out there."

"Unfortunately, David has snagged the last angel in the world," Wes said with a big smile, and David swatted him off. Katherine laughed even more. When she started to cough, David gave her a cup of water. She grinned at them. "I like listening about what happens in your school. It sounds like a big weird TV show."

"Only when you're looking at it from the outside," David grumbled. "From the inside, it feels like World War III. At least Chaz is back."

"Well that's good, right?" nodded Katherine. "How about the Warblers? Got a set list for Regionals yet?"

"Harvey and Medel haven't said anything—I think they're trying to make some changes," David answered. "What about your group? Those girls telling you about their practice?"

Katherine was a part of their school's dance troupe. She rolled her eyes with an exasperated sigh. "You know how people keep saying that lead dancers are often stereotyped? Someone really ought to tell Nadia that she is the _cause_ of the stereotype."

David snorted. "She couldn't dance better than you."

"Well, while I'm in here, I have no room to talk," Katherine grumbled. "Ms. Caldwell said that I should take as much recovery time as I need, but if Nadia keeps bothering the other girls, then recovery or no recovery—"

"Katherine—easy…" David put a hand to her arm, and grinned as Katherine started grumbling about her group's general drama. Mrs. Rivers just laughed and shook her head.

Wes looked up as there was a knock on the door, and opened it to find Katherine's doctor. In that one moment, the atmosphere of the room changed. He didn't have to turn around to know that David's hand had tightened on Katherine's and that Mrs. Rivers' smile would have vanished. But he also knew that Katherine would have just smiled.

Katherine's doctor was a tall, slightly graying man with classic Hispanic good looks and though he usually smiled at Katherine, he looked somber now. And it was the one look David had not been hoping to see. "Hello, Mrs. Rivers," he murmured. "Katherine. David."

David rose from his seat and shook hands with the doctor, who now smiled faintly at him. "Here for the news…? Aren't you going to get in trouble missing so much class?"

He always asked that question, and David only ever smiled in answer. The doctor smiled back a little at him and then gave Mrs. Rivers a hug and then stepped back. David stood next to Wes as Mrs. Rivers took her spot next to her daughter, and then it was then only a matter of addressing the elephant in the room.

Wes had not had David hold his hand before. There had never been a need for him to. The truth was, right now, he wasn't even doing it. It was Wes' _wrist_ that he held as the doctor talked, and said things like "arrhythmia", "heart transplant" and "surgery" and then "organ rejection" and "immunosuppressant treatment".

As the prognosis came to light, David was holding onto Wes' wrist like he was clutching a lifeline. There was the news the arrhythmia had been the danger signal and that while the second surgery they had given her helped, it couldn't do everything—they had to consider finding a donor heart or else it would worsen and…

…and all the while, David just clutched at him, shaking very slightly.

But he said absolutely nothing.

Wes just stood there letting David take the circulation from his hand. What else could he do? David never wanted anyone helping him from the time everyone found out that he had a girlfriend and that, a year prior to studying at Dalton, he'd made a mistake.

A mistake that caused Katherine's first injury—her first heart surgery. One David had been responsible for, by being somewhere he ought not have been.

Wes wondered, what were best friends supposed to do right now anyway? Something beyond that awkward cold fear that you were just standing there staring, the urge to do something,_ anything_ just to not feel that you were being useless to your best friend. And wondering if your friend needed comforting or if not saying anything would help him keep it together?

Because right now, David looked like it was taking_ everything_ he had to keep it together, and it wasn't enough. He would never have grabbed onto Wes unless he needed that little bit of extra to keep him standing.

Wes remembered the auditorium, when his sleeve was the one Kurt grabbed after he saw that hulk from McKinley at Sectionals. It was a little like this…only he couldn't fight his way out of this one. And it wasn't Kurt. Kurt was his friend—but David was his best friend. And anyone could tell you that it made things just a little bit different.

There was a lot of talk about discussing the surgery that had been done to Katherine, and possibly finding a donor, and making sure Katherine gets the best treatment possible. The doctor asked Mrs. Rivers to step outside, so they could discuss properly, leaving the two boys and Katherine in the room.

After the doctor had left, David moved to Katherine, who seemed to be staring at the wall for this long moment. He took her hand, white and small inside his, rubbing the back with his thumb. Katherine held onto him, and glanced up slightly, giving him a small smile.

And so now, the clock was ticking.

David looked at her intently and whispered, "…It's…going to be all right. I'll…I'll help."

"You always do…" Katherine murmured, turning away. She was staring at the wall again. After a moment, she licked her dry lips and whispered, "Go back, David. You miss enough class as it is."

"I think I should—"

"Wes?" Katherine flashed him a smile. "Could you, like, give us a second?"

Wes stared at them both and nodded. "Sure." He gave David a nod and exited the room with a last glance at his friend. David watched him go, and felt Katherine tug his tie down until his face was near hers. She was looking at him with a small smile.

"David. We talked about this."

"I'm just trying to—"

"David." Katherine fixed him with the stare that she had previously bestowed onto the wall. "You weren't the one driving. You weren't even supposed to be there. You just got pulled along. You were trying to get someone else out of there."

"I know, and if I _hadn't_ been there, you wouldn't have had to come get me, and we wouldn't have gotten into that senior's car—"

"Should've, would've, could've," Katherine rolled her eyes. "Listen to yourself. The fact that your first instinct was to throw yourself in front of me when Trent hit the brakes says volumes about you. You tried, from that first time. It still turned out this way. It's just…the way it's supposed to go, I guess."

"Isn't this what I'm supposed to be doing, though?" David murmured, looking intently down at her. But Katherine just smiled faintly and shook her head. "You've been borderline obsessed about looking after me. If I didn't love you so much, I'd find you suffocating and tiresome. You're _becoming_ suffocating and tiresome."

"I love you, Katherine."

"I know, David." She smiled a little. "And as much as I'd like you to keep telling me, you need to…go back to class. You do have a life. I need to be alone with my mom for a little bit to let this all…sink in. And I think you should too." She gave him a look. "Okay?"

David stared down at her and knew that arguing was futile. That was what he saw in the headstrong dancer to begin with, wasn't it? The fact that she didn't need a knight in shining armor—and David hadn't been all that good at that anyway. It was intimidating, how her voice could sound so still even at the face of this news, when David himself was about to break down.

"Earth to David." She smiled a bit more.

"Right…" David came to. He leaned down and gave her a gentle kiss. He allowed her to hold him down to it for a few moments, and she let go of his tie.

She said, "I'll let you know if anything else comes up, all right?"

"Yeah, immediately," David agreed. He kissed her hair and pulled the cover up a little higher over her.

Wes looked up when David came out of the room. Mrs. Rivers was on her way back into the room, and she and David spoke for a moment. They embraced each other—Mrs. Rivers looking teary—but David's words seemed to assuage her. When she vanished into Katherine's room, David's smile disappeared and he turned to his friend.

He seemed to have woken up, so distant as he said, "I'm sorry—did I take that long?"

"No," Wes gave him an incredulous look. "Have I ever complained about time around here?"

David didn't answer and he just started walking towards the exit, with Wes walking with him. He was quiet for a while, and then Wes said, "…are you going to be all right?" He remembered that grip on his wrist.

David glanced at him. "Yeah, yeah…" he nodded, pulling out his phone as soon as they got out of the hospital to tell the others they were on their way back. "I'll be—it's just…something that has to sink in properly."

Wes stared at him. He wanted to say something, maybe reiterate what the Twins keep telling David, but he had the feeling that he would just get rebuffed again. But he put a hand on David's back without looking at him. "All right," was all he said.

Which was also basically what David would let him give right now.

* * *

Kurt was copying notes in Newman's Ecology and Environmental Studies class. Once again, Dwight was in there, and even though he was a year younger, he was allowed to stay in that class because it was probably the only subject that he really excelled at—and the teachers were desperate to distract him from his other obsessions. Dwight claimed that he was only good at it because he needed to know which times unusual phenomena were natural, and which times they were demonic.

Kurt jumped a little when a little paper ninja star fell onto his desk in perfect precision. He picked it up, glanced behind him and saw Dwight staring wide-eyed at him. Kurt sighed and opened, with some difficulty, the ninja star.

_What happened? Pass/Fail?_

Kurt found it amusing that the paper was torn out of a sheet that had a doodle of some kind of map with "Wendigo Woods" written at the side. But he scribbled in his answer in, balled the paper, and threw it back at him. The paper ball bounced off Dwight's head and he tried to catch it—but he fell with a clatter onto the floor.

He popped up immediately, "I'm fine! I just fell." And he sat down again. Everyone glanced back at him only once before continuing what they were doing. It was Dwight, after all—nothing was weird anymore.

Dwight opened the paper ball and read it. His eyes went wide and he yanked out his cell phone.

Phones rang in different spots. From inside Wes' car, both their phones went off and since Wes was driving, David was the one who picked them up. The Twins looked up as the text arrived during their History class, and Reed wiped his hands from his pottery exercise to go get it, while from his Physics class, Blaine pulled out his own phone.

_Good: Alice passed. Staying in Windsor. _

_Bad: After school tutoring with the Knave._

_Really bad: TWO WEEKS._

* * *

Logan came out of the classroom and was surprised to find Blaine waiting for him. "Hello, Logan," he said coolly, looking for all the world as though he had just fallen into step next to the Stuart prefect in the hall.

"You're here, so I assume you've heard about Murdoch's condition for Kurt, am I right?" Logan asked with equal composure, looking down at his notebook as the two of them began walking down the hall for lunch period.

"Well, you're a reasonably intelligent human being; I didn't suppose for one minute you'd think there was any other reason I'd be here?"

"Really. I also imagined our very moving talk in the memorial garden might have compelled you, but the blazing expression you've got says otherwise."

Blaine glared at him, but Logan, without even bestowing the shorter boy a glance, continued, "No, this wasn't my plan—as you well know my original plan was to move Kurt to Stuart. That backfired and Pavarotti got stolen and now I'm trying to keep under the radar for the time being. I had no idea Murdoch was going to have Kurt signed up for after school lessons." But now he looked at Blaine briefly. "Surprising advantage, and I'm not ungrateful."

"As long as they _stay_ literature lessons, Logan," Blaine responded.

Logan sighed, exasperated. "No promises. Are you that opposed to me becoming so friendly with him? Seeing as how you've got his favor, I don't see why you should be worried."

"You know very well why I'm worried."

Logan looked surprised. "An admission of weakness? From you? Wow…" Logan shook his head. "Things _have_ changed. You really trust Kurt that little?"

Kurt stopped in the hall when he heard his name. He was behind them both, and obvious they had yet to notice he was there. He'd heard this conversation and just like the first time, he wondered what how wide or narrow the gap between these two boys actually were.

"It's not Kurt I don't trust," Blaine said emphatically, stopping Logan in his walk with an arm. He looked up at him with green eyes that never quite had this kind of intensity before. "It's you I don't trust. What you said to me in the memorial garden didn't really do much by way of assurance, you know."

_Memorial garden…? _Kurt wondered.

Logan turned to him with a smile. "All right. I see where you're coming from."

"Just _now_?" Blaine raised an eyebrow.

Logan held up his palms and smiled genially. It was a strange sight to Kurt. Logan was able to spar verbally with Blaine the way he ordinarily did, but he didn't look as though all the medication had worn off. And yet he was able to carry on with Blaine as though nothing was wrong. He looked almost…normal now.

Did that mean that Logan was more himself…when he was confronting Blaine? When he was just _with_ Blaine?

Logan smiled at Blaine in a way that didn't actually reach his eyes as he did so. "I'm not going to do anything Kurt doesn't want to do. And considering how terribly loyal he is to you, you can be rest assured that it will be a deeply _deeply_ boring after-school study session."

Blaine stood, cogitating as he stared at him, and then conceded. "Fine. I'll take your word for it." He might still not trust him all that much, but Logan did extend the olive branch (however convoluted an olive branch it _had_ been considering his motivations and their discussion) by sending the search parties out for Shane.

For all he knew, he was softening up the competition, but at this point, he had to put his trust in Kurt, and if Logan knew what was good for him, he really _would_ go by his word to not do anything Kurt didn't want to. But there was no dodging the situation. Short of going with Kurt to the study session, which would make things monumentally worse, there was no feasible reason for him to stop Kurt from going by Murdoch's commands.

Save for the overwhelming, completely unreasonable desire to defend his territory. But he wasn't quite ready to own up to that just yet.

Logan nodded with a smile. "Good. I suppose the threat to my life need not be said."

"No, it does not," Blaine answered matter-of-factly.

"Good!"

"Fine!"

And Logan turned heel and left. Blaine stood fuming to himself before turning as well—and nearly crashed into Kurt Hummel himself. He nearly jumped a foot. "Kurt! Uh…how long have you been there?"

"Long enough," Kurt's eyebrow was raised, arms crossed. "And what was that about?"

Blaine hesitated just long enough for Kurt to narrow his eyes. The dark-haired boy could only throw up his hands and sigh. "Fine. All right. But you can't blame me for this. His track record isn't excellent. Especially not with me."

"I know that much," Kurt replied. "And I also know that he's tolerable. To me, anyway."

"Then there's really nothing I can do, is there?" Blaine just sighed. He looked worried. His eyes looked worried even as he looked out the window. There was that hesitance in him that screamed as though he wanted to say something more, but propriety couldn't allow him to.

Kurt took his hand. "It'll be fine. It's you I'm with, remember? Not him. I'm not like that flaky soloist of yours."

"Hey." Blaine threw him a warning look, but he was smiling a little.

"Hey yourself. You get to worry about Logan, and I get to tell you that if that soloist comes back, I might have to smack him for causing all this trouble in the first place."

"So…now that we're fighting over you, you're the one who's making all the trouble?" Blaine raised an eyebrow.

"It's not a fight when you've won," Kurt said simply. The statement earned a priceless expression on Blaine's face.

Kurt continued casually, "I'll come over to your room right after the study session. That way we can have dinner together."

Blaine was rendered speechless—Kurt took control without much effort. He wondered if this had always been the way he'd been, back at McKinley, ensconced in his own grandeur amidst everyone else. But he wasn't unwilling towards the proposition. "Sounds good… Supposing nothing unusual happens in Windsor prior." He grinned. "And I'll have to boot Shane out."

"Give him to Reed, I'm sure he'll be more than thrilled," Kurt smirked. "And I'm sure I'm dying to have a little bit more development between your brother and my danger-prone friend."

"Are you _sure_ you want to subject Reed to _my brother_…? I suppose Reed might have possibly gotten to your nerves at some point, but I refuse to believe that he deserves to be subjected to Shane's level of—" the look that Kurt was giving him made him grin and almost laugh. "All right. You got me. I was starting to get curious too."

He walked down the hall with Kurt, holding his hand as he did. "It had been a while since Shane actually took that kind of a liking to someone."

"And Reed did tell me that he reciprocates…in his own way," Kurt smirked back at his boyfriend, fingers twined. "They could…probably learn a little something from each other."

"If you say so…" Blaine then glanced at him as they rounded the corner to the lunch room. "You think they'll be all right?"

"They'll be all right…" Kurt remarked, smiling. "As long as it's left up to them, the way it was with us. You think your brother will make the first move?"

"Well if it's moves, Shane's got them," Blaine answered calmly. "I just can't guarantee they're the right ones."

* * *

"Shane?" Reed peered into the room he shared with Kurt, where he saw Shane last. "Are you in here, Shane?"

He was no longer there—the room stood empty save for Pavarotti, who seemed to be snoozing. Shane wasn't meant to go home until tonight, or at least that was what Blaine told him when they had to leave the younger boy behind in Windsor (with Howard's hesitant permission). Everyone save for Han had gone to class, and the Caterpillar had agreed to glancing at the monitors every once in a while to make sure that Shane was still breathing or wasn't destroying anything.

Reed glanced around apprehensively, hoping he hadn't gotten into some kind of trouble. A boy who still needed a crutch and had an arm in a sling couldn't have gone too far. He left the room to go look, until he heard music playing from across the hall, pouring out through the crack at Blaine's door.

Surprised, he crept closer, and gently pushed the door open.

He saw Shane there, sitting on the couch, with Blaine's guitar hugged close to himself. His arm was out of its sling, and he was strumming a melody slightly. Stunned, Reed walked in. "Shane?"

The other boy almost jumped. "Reed! Geez, you nearly gave me a heart attack."

"What are you doing? I thought your arm was broken!"

"No it's not," Shane responded airily. "The paramedic who brought me down from the mountain told me I might've snapped a tendon. But when the real doctors got to seeing me, they said I'd just strained bad or something."

"I mean _you_ told _Blaine_ it was."

"He lets me do more of what I want when he thinks I'm wounded."

Reed crossed the room with narrowed eyes. "Don't do that to him! He was worried sick about you all this time! _We've all_ been worried sick about you while you were gone!"

"Hey!" Shane reached out the moment he saw Reed snag his foot on the carpet. He grabbed his arm and managed to hold him steady before the smaller boy went flying. Reed looked up breathlessly, a little startled, to find Shane clutching at the leg he had put his weight on when he moved.

"You…"

"My leg, you should know, _is_ injured," Shane responded, gingerly lifting it to move it. He sighed. "…I can't dance. I won't be dancing for a while. Guess I'll be missing a couple of recitals and performances…"

Reed stared. Shane was a dancer the way Blaine was a singer, and if that was any indication of his love for his art…

"Well…" Reed stammered. "At least…your arm isn't…so bad."

Shane looked up, and started to laugh. "Relax! Geez… you're right, though." He sighed, picking up the guitar up as Reed sat next to him. "I should really have thought of Blaine. …don't know what I must've put him through again."

"You didn't ask for it to happen…" Reed murmured, but Shane didn't look at him anymore. He hit a nerve and he knew that. "Um…"

Shane just lifted a hand to stop him. "No, no…you're right. I'll just have to think first before doing things… Apparently that's very useful."

An awkward silence followed. Shane continued to avoid his gaze, and Reed was watching Shane strum the guitar lightly, a little fascinated. Shane was idly playing, murmuring a little, and Reed forgot his original errand—to see if he'd eaten anything. "…do you play too? Like Blaine?"

"Hm? Yeah, a little… Not as good as he is. I can barely even read music. I just mimic what I hear."

"Can you sing? I heard you singing a little bit."

Shane now glanced at him suspiciously. "You…want me to sing? In front of you? A Warbler? Is this you trying to give me comeuppance via humiliation for pretending to have a broken arm?"

Reed smiled. "No. I just wanted to hear what the great lead singer Blaine's brother sounded like."

"You should know I sound like a dying bovine."

Reed elbowed him sharply. Shane coughed and laughed. "All right! Fine… Just a little bit."

He began to play a little more, but not so much—he clearly still had a hurt arm—but he strummed along, humming a little at first. He began to sing carefully, his voice of a different quality from Blaine's, but was not, by any means, as terrible as he made it seem.

_And if you were here _

_I could deceive you_

_And if you were here _

_you would believe…_

When he looked at Reed as he sang, right in the eyes, the other boy felt his breath hitch just a little bit. He had his own voice, and that was clear.

_But would you suspect _

_my emotion wandering, yeah?_

_Do not want a part of this anymore_

He smiled at him, as though asking for affirmation. Reed smiled a little, leaning a just a bit closer, beginning to sing with him, softly.

_The rain water drips_

_Through the cracks in the ceiling_

_And I'll have to spend my time on repair_

_And just like the rain I'll be always fallin', yeah_

_Only to rise and fall again_

Shane continued to play, not even looking at what he was doing, the two of them looking at each other as the music continued. As the taller boy stared, Reed slowly began to smile at him, acknowledging without words that he wasn't a bad singer at all. Shane looked a little embarrassed and turned away.

They started to sing again, voices rising.

_If you were here_

_I could deceive you_

_And if you were here_

_You would believe_

_But would you suspect_

_My emotion wandering, yeah?_

_Do not want a part of this anymore_

Their voices fell soft as the song came to a close, Reed now leaning on his shoulder a little. Shane welcomed it while it lasted.

_But just like the rain_

_I'll be always fallin', yeah_

_Only to rise and fall again…_

The song slowly came to a close, and Reed glanced at Shane with a smile. Shane looked a trifle red at this point, but he just shook his head with a short laugh. "…first time I ever hear you sing…and…you had to sing with me." He looked at him. "Sing me a solo next time."

"But I liked singing with you, though…" Reed replied easily. "You don't sound like a dead bovine."

"Ah, compliments from the master." Shane affected a look of complete worship. "I'm deeply honored to be given such splendid praise! I could die right now!"

Reed turned red and shoved at his shoulder. "Come on," he said, getting up. "Let's get some lunch. Clearly, your lack of nourishment is getting to you."

But even when he helped Shane stand up, Reed couldn't look him in the eyes, his hands on his toned arm that signified a strong dancer. Singing with Shane made him think of Kurt and Blaine when they sang together. The way they did it—it always sounded like they were talking to each other.

He hadn't let learned that art—he'd only begun singing solos recently—but he couldn't help but wonder if Shane could tell yet, that he liked him.

Maybe he could make it clear, sometime in the future. With a little bit of courage, he decided, remembering the word over Blaine's photo in Kurt's desk.

* * *

Harvey and Medel stood in front of the assembled Warblers after school, the two of them beaming. "All right boys, settle down, settle down," he said, gesturing for them to take their seats. The Warblers could tell, by their expressions, that something was in the air, and hastily took their seats.

"Hey," said Blaine, the moment Wes and David sat next to him and Kurt. "Haven't heard from you all day. How did it go?"

"She's…oh, she's…you know…same…nothing I can't handle." David said absently, waving it away. But his eyes looked terribly distant. Wes kept looking at him, apprehensive, and he glanced to Blaine, shaking his head. Kurt gave him a look that demanded an explanation, but Wes just gestured for him to wait as he'd tell them later.

The Tweedles gave each other that sidelong look that suggested they already had a guess on what was happening—that it was something David _couldn't_ handle by himself. But they would wait until they were back in Windsor before they would grill him. Where they could really push him to the wall.

Harvey shot the twins a look as though he could tell simply by instinct that they were plotting, but began. "All right then. As you know, we really have to step up our game. We made it through Sectionals, but to be quite frank, Mr. Schuester from McKinley and I agree that we all weren't in great shape. The tie means that we just squeaked by at this point."

The Warblers glanced at each other guiltily. "We did a little better during the Winter Fest," added Harvey, as though to diffuse the blunt observation. "Kurt and Reed did great—" he paused at the applause that followed, and Kurt beamed with pleasure, sitting up, while Reed just turned red with a smile, ducking his head, "—and we're going to try and keep up that kind of energy."

"We've decided that since Reed has proven quite excellent, we're going to give more of you the chance to go for a lead spot," said Medel with a smile. "After all, we don't know who else could just simply be hiding that ability to qualify for a role."

Kurt smile faltered a little. _More_ competition? After he'd just been chosen over Blaine and Logan, the two long-time leads, for one? There was no way he wasn't getting a lead position for the Regionals, and that was final.

Blaine, who could tell all of these emotions were passing through Kurt without even having to look at him, only smiled affectionately. Kurt's competitive streak was not something new to him—especially after witnessing him and Rachel in action.

"Now," Medel looked around them all, beaming. "Mr. Harvey and I have decided to make a little bit of a competition. For the upcoming Valentines Fair."

"Fair…?" Kurt murmured, and Ethan leaned to him, whispering, "We have a fair every year for Valentines. We ask people from other schools to come, raise money for charity."

"It's lots of fun," Evan grinned. "Lots of people come and we can prank half the attendees and get away with it."

Kurt waved them away as Medel resumed her talk, "The Warblers will be performing for the crowd on the Valentines Fair—and seeing as how it's Valentines, we'll make room for duets than for solos. Two pairs will be chosen to perform onstage."

"Two pairs…?" gasped some of the Warblers. They had never had a double duet before. That meant four leads—the most the Warblers had ever had in a single performance.

So there was room for everyone, Blaine considered. But why was Medel smiling like that?

Harvey continued. "This duel will be a free-for-all. Anyone who wants to perform can and will perform—solo, or duet—in front of us here in Warblers hall. And I should think you'd want to, because there's more than just the performance at stake."

He fastened a level gaze at the boys. "Whoever gets chosen to perform for the Valentines Fair will be excused from any and all Fair-related work. Which means you can spend as much free time as you want, and in the duration of the day itself."

A murmuring started in the hall, especially among the boys looking to spend the day with the dates for the Fair—and watch everyone else slave away setting the whole spectacle up. Everyone sat up as Harvey continued, "Those same four people will also be given extra points for end of term exams…" and now uproar was building nicely, "…and finally, they will be given particular preference for a lead position in the Regionals performance."

Kurt sat up so straight that Reed thought someone had shoved him. Over the roar of excitement in Warblers hall, all the boys more than ready to give it a shot no matter how bleak it may have looked, Blaine looked at Kurt and smirked. "So… you're going to compete."

"Try and stop me."

"I suppose you don't need my help…for, say…a duet?" Blaine asked smoothly. This got Kurt's attention. Blaine just beamed. "Throwing it out there… it _is_ a Valentines' Day performance… But no matter what, I'll be fighting for a spot." His eyes were devastatingly intent onto Kurt's own. "…I want to sing with you onstage. In front of everyone this time."

Kurt flushed deeply in spite of himself. "…then we both better get a spot."

Suddenly there was a bit of talk, murmuring in the room, and the others looked up to see Wes raising his hand silently. Harvey looked up and nodded to him. "Yes, Wes?"

Wes stood slowly and David looked up at him in surprise. "Sir…if you would permit… I know it's not how we usually do it, but I just wanted to get something off my chest. I was wondering if I can come forward and perform a piece."

"You mean you want to sing?" Medel said, blinking, surprised—Wes had sung by himself before in the duels, but it had been some time since he had.

"Yes," he said with finality. "The truth is… I want to sing to someone in this room. …a really good friend of mine. And I just feel like he's not going to listen to me unless I do something this drastic. And…" he took a breath and didn't look at David, who was staring up at him, "…I really need to get him to start talking."

The two directors looked at each other as the Warblers began to murmur in puzzled conversation. Blaine and Kurt looked at each other, and then back at the two—one intent, the other a little frazzled. And between Wes and David, it was the reverse from the usual scene.

Medel looked at the two friends and perhaps knew in her own way what was happening. She looked at Harvey meaningfully. He glanced to her, did a double take, and she raised her eyebrows. He sighed, but smiled, motioning to Wes. "Do what you feel you must." He disliked rifts among the Warblers, and prized their unity. And if this was their own way of fixing it, then he felt he should let them.

"Thank you, sir." He moved forward, his sleeve slipping away from David's reach even as he tried to stop him. The Twins leaned forward, interested, and even Logan raised his eyes from where they were resting on the music sheets.

Wes moved forward, tapping some underclassman Warblers as he went—among them Drew from Windsor, Bailey from Stuart and Jesse from Hanover—all of whom he must've spoken to in private prior to the meeting, as they too rose and followed after him.

The group of them stood in front, with Wes in front and center. The underclassmen started to make a harmony for him, a steady tune in perfect chorus as all the Warblers were able to do.

Wes raised his head, looking at no one in particular, and began to sing.

_She's all laid up in bed with a broken heart_

_While I'm drinking jack all alone in my local bar_

_And we don't know how—_

_How we got into this mad situation_

_Only doing things out of frustration_

_Trying to make it work but man, these times are hard…_

The other Warblers started to chime in, harmonizing with his voice, and the other Warblers looked surprised. The song was meant for something else, true, but the way Wes sang it gave it a different interpretation. He was certainly reaching out to someone.

Kurt turned to David, who looked a little stunned as he lowered his eyes.

Wes continued to sing.

_And we don't know we got into this mess it's a gods test_

_Someone help us cause we're doing our best_

_Trying to make it work but man these times are hard…_

_But we're gonna start by drinking old cheap bottles of wine_

_Sit talking up all night…_

_Saying things we haven't for a while, a while yeah_

_We're smiling but we're close to tears_

_Even after all these years_

_We just now got the feeling that we're meeting_

_For the first time…_

As the Warblers in front continued to sing, in perfect melody using only their voices, David leaned back in his seat, rather unable to react at the fact that Wes was willing to go this far just to get his attention—to make him understand when ordinary words weren't enough.

And for the first time, Wes met his gaze.

_She's in line at the door with her head held high_

_While I just lost my job but didn't lose my fight_

_But we both know how—_

_How we're gonna make it work when it hurts_

_When you pick yourself up you get kicked in the dirt_

_Trying to make it work but man these times are hard_

Wes didn't lift his gaze away from David's. He didn't know what he had to do to help his friend, but he had to let him know that he was there, and he wanted to help. And that no matter how strong David thought he was, no one should have to endure this alone.

_Sit talking up all night…_

_Saying things we haven't for a while, a while yeah _

_We're smiling but we're close to tears_

_Even after all these years_

_We just now got the feeling that we're meeting_

_For the first time…_

David and Wes had been friends since the beginning of high school. And to both, those years felt as though they had lasted forever, through the topsy-turvy days when they had each other's company through thick and thin. They had been inseparable, but this rift that David was starting to have, even when Wes was right next to him…

He may have forgotten that he had a friend upon whom he could thoroughly rely. And one so headstrong that he would—regardless of what he said—take it upon himself to support him in some way, especially now that he was slowly breaking down.

_Oh these times are hard_

_Yeah they're making us crazy…_

As the song came to a close, Wes finally lowered his eyes. As the song ended, the Warblers burst into applause, all quite impressed. The underclassmen were pleased at the approval from the others, but Wes wasn't there to look for approval.

He turned to Harvey and nodded. "Thank you, Mr. Harvey, Ms. Medel."

"You did great…" Medel answered with a smile, putting a hand to his back as he passed her. "All of you. It was beautiful."

"That it was," Harvey affirmed. He smiled a little as he turned to the rest of the boys. "You heard Wes just now. You're going to have to be that good—and even better than that—if you're looking to earn a lead position and all that goes with it."

Talk in the room exploded again, everyone eagerly talking to one another and making plans. If Wes' performance was any indication, it set the bar high.

But as Wes sat down in his place next to David and Blaine, he said nothing. Blaine turned to him and he may have wanted to say something, but Wes only lifted his hand slightly, just a short bend of the wrist, as though asking him not to say what he was about to say next.

Blaine stared at him, and then at David. David was also staring on the ground. And after a moment of terrible hesitation, he exhaled.

"…all right," he whispered. "All right, Wes, I get it."

"We'll talk later," Wes replied quietly.

David nodded. He wasn't sure about what he was going to say. But he had the feeling that telling his friends something—_anything_—would be sufficient. For both them and him.

* * *

Surprisingly, Logan didn't wait for Kurt to leave the Warblers rehearsal. He neither followed him out nor accompanied him to Stuart House. It was the other Windsors who walked him to out of South and Main, and Kurt, as they prepared to separate, collared the twins.

"Tell me the minute you find out what the heck is wrong with David," he told them, watching the boy who seemed lost in thought, walking ahead without realizing his companions weren't doing the same. Wes followed after him. "You're going to interrogate him sooner or later."

"We will," the twins said happily, delighted that Kurt was in tune with their mind at last. "And does this mean we have permission to do as we please with Logan? We were thinking paintballs."

"No." Kurt rolled his eyes and released them. "Just go."

"You going to be okay, Kurt?" Reed asked, looking oddly breathless and wildly overexcited, hugging music sheets.

"Yes…" Kurt answered, puzzled.

"Great—see you back in Windsor!" and Reed raced off in record speed. Blaine looked startled. "Reed! Don't run so fast, you'll fall!" He sighed and put a hand on the small of Kurt's back and kissed him briefly. "Tell me the instant you're done."

"Mm…" Kurt just smiled. "You're distressingly overprotective."

"I like to stake my territory." After saying so, Blaine looked up suddenly, frowning. "Looks like you've got escorts to go there anyway."

Over the grounds, Derek was walking towards them with his intentions clear, and Blaine gave him a nod. Derek only nodded back slightly. Blaine held onto Kurt a little longer and said, "See you back in Windsor."

"See you." Kurt clutched his bag strap as Blaine left, glancing back only slightly as though making sure he would be all right. As he came close to Windsor, Kurt then turned and at Derek, who gave him a quick appraisal before saying, "All right, then. Follow me."

Derek led him towards Stuart House, and Kurt remarked, "You guys always treat visitors like they were visiting spies?"

"If you were from Hanover it wouldn't be an issue," Derek commented. "But you know our beef with Windsor. Especially after a certain prize warbler just went missing."

Kurt tugged slightly at his collar with a cough. The said prize warbler _was_ in his room as they spoke. Derek either didn't notice, or didn't pay attention, or didn't care. They entered Stuart House.

Stuart House was not all that different from Windsor—but it had its own sophisticated charm. Windsor looked like a real living space, beaten with time and antics of many boys through the ages, but Stuart House looked more like a formal location where meetings were held and held an air of strict sophistication. In contrast to the very Tudor-esque look of his House, Stuart looked more like an old manor, with marble and stone holding dominant.

There was chatter in the House and the halls, but subdued. Kurt spied a number of boys in the common room, poring over their books or assignments, while a few others were clearly discussing politics in the kitchen—which was furnished with more coffee arsenal than what Kurt was comfortable on seeing outside of a coffee house.

A boy with brown hair came downstairs, music beating out of his headphones, and greeted Derek as he took them off. "Hey Derek." He looked at Kurt and blinked. "And…Alice?"

Kurt bristled. How everyone in the school seemed to know this nickname was a testament of the Twins' influence, but at least this boy probably knew because he was in the Warblers. "His name is Kurt, Bailey," said Derek with a frown.

"We've met," Kurt responded, smiling at him.

"You here to rehearse with Logan or something?" Bailey asked, his eyes friendly. Kurt looked at him, confused. This also seemed to confuse Bailey. "For the Warblers? The Valentines' Fair? I passed the anteroom and I heard him messing with his keyboard—I figured—"

"He's just here on Murdoch's orders—for tutoring." Derek responded coldly.

"Tutoring?" Bailey snorted a little. "What for? I heard your grades were the highest among the newbies that took the exam." This puzzled Kurt more than ever, and Derek was now glaring at the friendly boy on the stairs.

"Where's Julian?" he demanded.

"In there with Logan."

Derek went striding up the stairs. Kurt glanced at Bailey, who looked apologetic. "Hey, did I say something wrong?"

"No, you didn't," Kurt replied firmly.

"All right," Bailey said, looking surprised. He watched as Kurt followed after Derek, looking a trifle worried. After a moment of hesitation, he crept upstairs after them.

Derek led Kurt up to the anteroom that once held Pavarotti. The only door open in the area was Logan's and Bailey had been right—there was music coming from inside. Derek opened the door to find Logan at the keyboard and Julian sitting by the window, music sheets in hand.

Logan's room was the size of Windsor room, and he was the only occupant. The difference was that the room was clearly just made for a single occupant. If there was ever a King's room, it had to be his, nestled at the corner of the floor. When the three Stuart boys now looked at him, Kurt never felt more in their territory in his life.

But Logan smile and rose. "Hey, Kurt. Sorry I didn't walk you back here—I went ahead, I just had so many ideas for that contest Harvey and Medel talked about."

"Yes, he did," Julian looked exasperated, waving the music sheets. "I'm not even a Warbler and I have to deal with all this too. Why don't you have Bailey or Thaddeus or some other Warbler sing with you or something?"

"You did say you already had a single out," Kurt remarked, walking to Logan.

"Doesn't mean I'm amiable to singing for little private school choirs…" Julian answered coolly.

"Ignore Julian, he's got a stick shoved up his back end," Logan glared at him, to which his friend only answered, "Only because you put it there, Logan."

"You both can now stop this shameless flirting before you further embarrass me," Derek said sarcastically as Logan glared further at the actor. Derek looked at his best friend and then to Kurt. "We'll leave you two to it."

Julian leaped off the window seat and offered the sheets with a flourish to Kurt with the smile that Kurt recognized from his TV show posters. Kurt gave him a look and took the sheets. "Good luck," Julian remarked with another smile and he sauntered out of the room.

Derek gave Logan a long look. Logan stared back, and sighed in answer, holding up a pill bottle. Derek nodded and left the room. As soon as they were gone, Kurt turned to Logan. "You keep interesting friends."

"I don't actually keep them—it just surprises me they put up with me the way you do," Logan answered, smiling at him. He motioned for him to sit down at the second chair by his desk. Even as he sat, Kurt glanced at the keyboard in the room, and the music sheets in his hand.

"So basically, I'll just be tutoring you for Murdoch's literature class, right?" Logan asked, pulling over some of the textbooks. He sat next to Kurt, close enough for Kurt to notice, but not close enough to defy prudence. "That means…" and he plopped a book with a thump onto the desk. "That all I have to do is to technically tell you what sort of things he likes to see on his exam papers."

Kurt raised an eyebrow. Logan smirked. "You don't need my help, I know that well enough. He's probably just out to get you. But to tell you quite honestly, the fact that you're taking "tutoring" with me will already help the odds lean to your favor with him."

He flipped open the book. "He did the same thing with Blaine when he first came here."

"Did he?" Kurt felt a little intrigued.

"He does that to all the new people who won't stay under his thumb," Logan informed him. "But after he sent Blaine to me for tutoring—which is basically me giving him everything short of an actual crib sheet—he was all right."

Kurt remembered the talk the two had in the hall. "…was that how you and Blaine got close?"

"Hm? Sort of, I suppose." Logan shrugged, taking down page numbers on a sheet of paper. He didn't look at him. "It helped that we were both Warblers too." After a pause, he added, "…so you know that we used to be together?"

"The way you two deal with each other makes it obvious," Kurt said bluntly.

"Ah…well…" Logan smiled faintly. "That was…then. Here." He handed him the page numbers. "I can almost guarantee you that the next exam coverage will be on those pages only." He smiled.

Kurt took the paper and stared at it incredulously. "That's it?"

"That's it." Logan shrugged. He leaned a little to him, smiling. "That's basically all the tutoring you need for the day. You're welcome."

"This school is ridiculous," Kurt remarked in distaste. "How it's even still standing is a feat."

"I know, but it's still standing for the same reasons it's ridiculous: too many donations in exchange for the odd power trip here and there. I'm living proof of it."

"How _did_ you get back…?" Kurt asked, looking up at the green gaze. "You were…expelled, right?"

"Well, there's my father…and then money…and then my father," Logan answered calmly, rather close to him by now. "That and Murdoch likes to think of me as one of his best students. He would like to keep me in Stuart, and so he helped me get back on board."

The workings of the school continued to amaze him. Murdoch must have wielded Sue Sylvester's power but terribly less conniving and clever at it if his own students could crack him so easily. "I'm supposed to be here for the next…" Kurt glanced at the clock by the bedstead. "…hour and a half."

Logan considered, nodding. "Hm. You have a point there." He thought it over, then gestured to the music sheets. "Help _me_ out, then?"

"Help you how?" Kurt crossed his legs and raised an eyebrow. Logan pointed to the songs on the sheets still in Kurt's hands. "I need a duet partner to sing a song."

Kurt looked down at the papers as Logan, without difficulty owing to his long limbs, pulled over the keyboard from where it rested nearby. Kurt now looked up at him, tense. "You want me…to sing with you? For the duels?"

Logan glanced at him, scooting a bit closer as he brought the keyboard before them both. At the question, he turned slowly to look at him. "Are you offering?" he asked quietly, looking intently at him.

Kurt's chest tightened. "It was just a question."

An awkward silence followed.

"While it would be nice…" Logan said distantly, not looking at him, "…you know, seeing as how Medel seemed to really like our duet from last time… if you're not comfortable with it, I can make someone else sing with me on the day itself."

Kurt knew Medel liked them together, as singers. The automatic offer for Regionals was a sign. If that didn't guarantee them both at double win for one of the four slots, nothing did, but Kurt wasn't prepared to sing a love song with Logan over Blaine.

"So…are you willing to maybe…sing with me, just for a bit—for now?" Logan murmured, beginning to play the music a little. He looked at him intently, hesitant to plead too far. "We do sound good together, you know."

They did. Since the first time—they had. After a long pause, Kurt sighed.

"I…suppose I can offer you my talents as help, but just for now," he finally said, with an airy tone to hide the fact that his lips suddenly felt dry and he felt an awkward knot. He prodded a few keys with his hand. He couldn't forget how Logan sounded when they sang together. He always sounded as though he were really, truly himself. "I'm not singing with you for the duel. Just practice—so we're clear."

Logan just smiled faintly at him for a long moment. "…Thank you, Kurt."

It sounded genuine. Kurt glanced at him at the corner of his eyes as Logan turned ahead to the music sheets, hands lying on the keyboard, very close to his again. Logan closed his eyes and took a breath.

_Let me hold you for the last time_

_It's the last chance to feel again_

_But you broke me, now I can't feel anything_

Kurt looked up at the words. Logan wasn't looking at him. He was only singing, in that voice that sounded so familiar by now, with his own colors in it.

_When I love you and so untrue_

_I can't even convince myself_

_When I'm speaking it's the voice of someone else_

_Oh, it tears me up_

_I tried to hold on but it hurts too much_

_I tried to forgive but it's not enough_

_To make it all okay_

He started to play, and music filled the air. Kurt stared at him, and the fact that he could sing like this. This was the only time he would ever be able to fight through the murky fog and speak. When he sang—Logan became someone else.

_You can't play our broken strings_

_You can't feel anything_

_That your heart don't want to feel_

_I can't tell you something that ain't real_

_Oh, the truth hurts and lies worse_

_How can I give anymore?_

_When I love you a little less than before?_

The words had meaning for sure. Kurt closed his eyes, and Logan turned to him, watching intently as the countertenor now took the words.

_Oh, what are we doing?_

_We are turning into dust_

_Playing house in the ruins of us_

Logan, watching him, felt his heart pounding, and rejoined him, the two of them looking at each other.

_Running back through the fire_

_When there's nothing left to say_

_It's like chasing the very last train_

_When it's too late, too late_

_Oh, it tears me up_

_I tried to hold on but it hurts too much_

_I tried to forgive but it's not enough_

_To make it all okay_

Their voices filled the room, the music pouring out of the room. Bailey, standing in the hall, looked up at the music, stunned. The Stuarts in the hall also looked up. At the sound of the song, Derek stopped in his walk, and Julian raised his head with a strange smile.

_You can't play our broken strings_

_You can't feel anything_

_That your heart don't want to feel_

_I can't tell you something that ain't real_

The two of them looked at each other as they continued to sing, singing without hindrance, enveloped in the music and the words. All of Stuart House, not having heard this kind of singing in a long time, looked up to listen.

_Oh, the truth hurts and lies worse_

_How can I give anymore?_

_When I love you a little less than before?_

Their voices continued to meld and intertwine, words weaving through one another's. And finally the music dropped to its finale, a slow tone, the two of them lifting their eyes to look at each other.

_Let me hold you for the last time…_

_It's the last chance to feel again…_

The music closed, the two of them left breathless by the song. Logan sat staring at Kurt with a strange expression, and Kurt stared back for a moment, until he licked his dry lips and turned away, looking at the keyboard. Their silence lasted for a long time as they both tried to get their breaths back.

Logan turned to the keyboard. "…I've gone too far, haven't I?"

"We were just singing," Kurt whispered.

"…you know that's not true." Logan looked at the ceiling for a moment. "…I can't help it…around you."

"It's better than let you keep it bottled up. And then it explodes. Then where will we all be?"

Logan glanced at him, gazing at his silent profile for a long moment. "…don't tell Blaine."

This surprised Kurt. He looked up to meet Logan's eyes. Logan shook his head, looking away, fingers drumming on the surface of the keyboard. "Don't tell him. If it'll hurt you and him…don't tell him."

Kurt shook his head. "If you think one song number is going to break him and me, you're sadly mistaken."

"Well as long as that's clear…" Logan murmured, running a hand though his hair. He looked distant again, as though remembering something far off. "…he's definitely not going to let you go over one song."

"What do you mean by that?"

"Same thing you did. That Blaine…can be extremely loyal—to a fault." He stared out the window. "Troublesome…almost."

Kurt watched Logan and felt himself smile slightly. So these two liked to hate each other…but while that may be true, memories stay and the two of them remain, in some ways, respectful of each other.

Maybe Logan sensed that, because he said, "What happened with Blaine was a long time ago, Kurt. And that fell out badly." He turned to him. "…I can't make that same mistake with you. You're…I'm too attached to you to lose you. Maybe you don't reciprocate… but if you've noticed, I can't feel a whole lot. So there's not a lot of pain either. So whatever we have right now…if you want to call it some twisted kind of friendship…I'll take it. Better than being without you."

He stopped and looked at him intently. "…can we at least be that?"

It took a moment, but there wasn't much to think about. Kurt raised his eyes to him.

* * *

"David!"

"I told you—"

"David." Wes backed him to the wall of their room. The rest of the conspirators stood behind him, all staring at David. "If you won't tell them, I will."

"Tell us what?" Blaine demanded. "David, what's going on? You've barely talked all day—and that in itself is _not normal_. As far as we can tell, something's wrong with Katherine. I think you need to tell us so we can _help_ you somehow!"

The Twins now stood on either side of David, who was basically pushed to a corner.

"David…" Wes moved forward and put a hand to his shoulder. "I don't like seeing you like this, man. If you can't tell all of us, at least tell _me_! I was there, I saw the look on your face—"

"_All right_!" David swung at him angrily. He looked around at their expressions and gave up. "All right."

He looked apprehensively at them, who looked at him in concern. He took a shaky breath and pushed past them. He went to the couch in the living area and sank into it with a sigh. "…she…the doctors said that…the surgery can only do so much, that she'd most likely need a transplant, but the thing is, if this kept up, she'd get worse and…" He sighed, putting his head into his hands. "I can't shake the thought that at any given minute…"

"You have to stop thinking that." Blaine strode over and sat next to him. He looked at him in concern. "You can't keep doing this to yourself."

"I just—I can't…" David tried to get the words out. He drew shaky breaths, looking around himself and looking for something to lean on. When he threw his hand out in a helpless gesture, someone automatically grabbed it. He looked up at him. Wes only stared intently, waiting.

David exhaled, staring at his friend. "I can't lose her. This just isn't _fair_! I've tried—I've tried _everything._ And she's still…" A deep, resigned sigh. "It's coming down all around me. I know you guys keep telling me it's not my fault but it is."

"Not even _she_ thinks that." Wes said, sitting on the table, leaning towards him.

David just shook his head and avoided their gazes.

"You do everything you can for her," Wes said patiently. "If you really think you have so little time, then don't spend it like this, David. I mean…knowing her the way I do, she would get so _pissed off_ that you were sitting here and blaming yourself for everything. She would chew you out, that's for sure. You know that, right?"

David gave in to a small, bitter smile. Wes continued, "What happened back then…it was an accident neither of you wanted. And you did everything you could to make it right, to make her happy—_everything_. I know because I saw you do it. And correct me if I'm wrong, but not everyone can say that they tried just as hard as you did."

"It's going to be all right," said Dwight, coming over. He looked awkward and fidgety as usual, but he sat in their circle with them. "It's not over yet. You can't give up now—you've gone too far. You can't give up on you and her already."

David looked at him, and the other Windsors that surrounded him. They were looking at him, and holding onto him with a hand on his arm or his back. They didn't look like they were going anywhere either. They were there, his support system.

Blaine nudged him slightly with his shoulder. "I know you feel like you've got to do this by yourself. And we're really glad for you—that you've lasted this long taking care of her the way you do. But I think…it's time for you to let us help you even a little bit. You did the same for us. And we _want_ to help. Even if it's just to listen to you or just _be there_. You don't have to do this alone."

We put a hand on his shoulder and smiled. "So what do you say? Let us help a bit? Just a little. Let us listen to you or something."

There was a pause, and David looked at the Windsor boys who surrounded him, all simply waiting for an answer, and eager to help him the way they'd always done for one another. He felt himself choke up just so slightly.

"…a little…a lot…" David laughed bitterly through the mists in his eyes. "Yeah—okay. I need help. I really…_really_ need help. I—"

The Twins laughed and piled onto the couch, grabbing him into a hug. Blaine smiled as Wes punched his friend lightly on the shoulder. David let the Twins smother him for a little while—those towering twins that still acted like they were five—and even hugged them back, but he smiled at Wes.

There was a gentle knock at the door, making them all look up. Reed was peeking in, smiling, with Kurt next to him. The two looked at each other and looked at the boys inside the room.

"David," Kurt said calmly, "I was on my way in when I saw someone hanging around outside… and seeing as how girls aren't supposed to be in the grounds, I offered to let her inside."

"Her…?" David stared.

Reed stepped aside and a pretty girl in comfortable, ordinary clothing peered into the room. David, eyes still streaming, leapt to his feet. "Katherine…?"

"Hi, you," she smiled, waving a little bit, still thin and pale.

"Katherine—" David broke away from the others and ran to her. "What are you doing here? You shouldn't be here—you should be resting or—"

"I told my mom that…I wanted to get discharged. Put up a bit of a fight, but when I told her my reasons, I guess she understood." Katherine shrugged slightly with cashmere-covered shoulders.

She looked up at him with those pretty eyes of hers that always made David want to smile. "It's not going to change, the situation. And while I may have this axe over my head, the truth is…if I really am going to die…I don't want to spend my days inside a gray hospital room. I want to spend it outside, with people—my mom, dad, my sister, brother, my friends—And the first person I thought of to really go to right now…was you."

David was tearing up again. Kurt and Reed looked at each other, smiling as they watched David hold Katherine tightly, running a hand through her hair. The other Windsors just grinned.

Katherine saw them all and gestured for them to come join them with a short laugh. The Twins needed no second telling; they leapt at the two so hard that they could've been sent sprawling. They took the initiative in sweeping the others into the group hug, ignoring Dwight's grumble of discomfort of being pulled along in spite of his protests.

As Reed made to join them, he saw Charlie at the other side of the doorway, staring mistily at the scene.

"Chaz…are you…crying?" Reed stared.

"Shut—up! I'm not." Charlie turned scarlet, hastily wiping his eyes and glowering down at Reed from his great height. The shorter boy burst out laughing and Charlie turned heel and stomped down the hall, still sniffling only slightly.

The Twins let go of the group for a moment to run out and drag Charlie—protesting vociferously—into the fray. Reed just laughed even harder. Wes, who was the one pressed closest to the two, looked at Katherine and David and grinned at them both. "I may be the third wheel here—but you have no idea how happy I am right now."

"Don't be ridiculous, Wes," Katherine said sensibly. "I don't know what David would do without you."

"Sadly true," David smiled at his friend. "…thanks, Wes."

Wes just shrugged, inwardly pleased, but he just smiled and then started hauling the boys off them. "All right, let's give them time alone, people! Move! Get out of my room!" He pulled the Twins off the pair.

The Twins started whining, but Charlie got to his senses and hauled both along. He was their height but much stronger, pulling them by the backs of their blazers. He glanced back to David and said, "David, you've got fifteen minutes in here with your girl before you have to bail and go somewhere else. Still against the rules to have girls in here, you know."

"Sure," David smiled, holding Katherine's hands. "Thanks, Chaz."

Wes was the last to run out. He gave David a smile from the door. David lifted his head from where it was leaning against Katherine's. "Later," he mouthed. "Thank you."

Wes smiled at him and nodded. He was rather glad to see David acting more or less himself again. He left the room, closing the door behind him.

David stood with Katherine in the middle of the room for quite a while, holding onto her gently. Katherine simply leaned her head against his strong shoulder, staring into empty space. David held her hand in his, and noticed sadly how small her frame had gotten. He sighed, rubbing the back of her hand.

Katherine sighed in answer, clutching at him. "…I'm so glad to be out of that room. I couldn't stand it anymore…it was just so… lifeless in there. It just keeps telling me why I'm in there. I'm so happy to be _outside _and…and be _normal_…"

David smiled briefly, resting a hand on her brown hair and giving her a small kiss. And it was then that a thought came to David. "…do you want to dance?"

His girlfriend, a talented young dancer, now raised her eyebrow at him. He smiled in a way more like his old self. "Just in here…just us both. Nothing crazy. I just…wondered if you wanted to. There was a song that I…wanted to sing to you."

Katherine flushed slightly, staring as he momentarily broke their embrace and ran to the stereo in the room. He pushed some buttons, and it started to play. At the first few bars, she flushed even more, recognizing a favorite slow song from one of her favorite movies. "What…"

"Hey." David beamed, coming up to her and taking her hands again. "You like to dance…I like to sing… Let me do this for you. You said you missed dancing, right?"

Katherine laughed softly, lowering her gaze as David looked down at her, slowly guiding her to the middle of the room to dance. He brought her close. They could hardly be "dancing", but with bodies close, sharing warmth and tremulous expressions, it made her feel more like herself, and him more like himself, once again. The music continued to play.

David leaned his cheek into her hair, clasping her hands as he sang softly:

_You__'__re in my arms_

_And all the world is calm_

_The music playing on for only two_

_So close together_

_And when I__'__m with you_

_So close to feeling alive_

Katherine felt the tears well up, but she just blinked them away and bit her lip, not quite looking at him as she danced. She held tighter onto him, exhaling shakily. David held her warmly against him as he sang,

_A life goes by_

_Romantic dreams will stop_

_So I bid mine goodbye and never knew_

_So close was waiting, waiting here with you_

_And now forever I know_

_All that I wanted to hold you_

_So close…_

David didn't really have a plan, and from his experience, plans got ruined sooner or later. But all he knew well was that while he had her, while he was still with her…Wes and his friends were right. He couldn't give up. No matter how the story ended, each moment they both could have was what mattered.

_So close to reaching that famous happy end_

_Almost believing this was not pretend_

_And now you__'__re beside me and look how far we__'__ve come_

_So far we are so close…_

They moved around the center of the room, David able to feel every movement of the body against his—warm, wonderfully alive—and for this moment, entirely his. He smiled down at her, singing to her and watching her smile.

_How could I face the faceless days_

_If I should lose you now…?_

_We__'__re so close_

_To reaching that famous happy end_

_And almost believing this was not pretend_

_Let__'__s go on dreaming for we know we are…_

He leaned forward, moving a hand over her cheek, the two of them looking intently at one another.

_So close_

_So close_

_And still so far…_

He leaned forward and gave her a long, soft kiss. She returned it, a tear running down her cheek. This was what she'd wanted. Just time, with David. All the time in the world. Beyond this bubble between them, reality loomed, but while they had this time, the dark thoughts were kept at bay. Thoughts that she couldn't bring herself to think about anymore—thoughts that he had to stop dwelling on as well.

She felt her throat tighten and she smiled tremulously at him, tears welling up so fast it stung her eyes. "I love you, David. I don't know why I'm crying. Like I'm scared. But I can't be…I don't want to be scared anymore. It's so tiring…"

David, eyes misty, just shook his head. "You think I want an explanation…?" He held her tightly against him. "…I love you, Katherine."

Katherine buried her face in his shoulder and he held her tight, and only then did he allow the tears to slip down his cheeks, when she couldn't see.

Time. They were fighting time. David felt himself take a breath, and Katherine's body move when she did the same. It wasn't really a fight when they know that in the end, time would win.

But with each breath…it made them feel like they won.

* * *

"You think they're all right in there?" Evan asked, tilting his head as he looked up at the wall of Blaine's room, where they had all gathered once again. Blaine, who was so used to having everyone over all at the same time, no longer cared that Dwight was spilling salt everywhere and that the twins were making a fort out of the couch pillows. They had Nerf pistols, small ones, and were trying to pelt everyone methodically—except Kurt, whose glare simply _dared _them to muss his perfect coiffure made them think twice.

"They're fine," Wes murmured as he stared out the window. It was cold out. It was snowing lightly outside the dark windows. Evan smiled at him and patted his shoulder. "You were great, little Hare."

"I'm just glad he's…all right," Wes shrugged, feigning nonchalance, knuckles pressed against his mouth just so. "Didn't like seeing him like that. He's supposed to be the solid one."

"There's no one solid in this house except maybe Chaz," Dwight grumbled, rolling his eyes. "Everyone's as volatile as a freaking ceremonial cauldron."

"Speaking of volatile things…" Blaine got up from his study chair and sat next to Kurt on the bed, taking his hand. "You got back from Stuart early. _Really_ early." He glanced down at his pocketwatch. Kurt smirked at the sight of it. White Rabbit indeed.

"We didn't do much studying," Kurt responded calmly. "He told me that all Murdoch really wanted to hear was that I had kowtowed to his wrath by agreeing to take tutoring…"

"Ah…" Blaine nodded slowly, understanding completely. Kurt added, "Logan did tell me…he did the same to you."

"Mm." Blaine nodded a little bit, turning away as though the memory physically stung him. "That was a while back…and he did ease up once he heard that I got tutoring from Logan."

"You really should tell me that story one day."

"What story?"

"What really happened between the both of you."

Blaine looked at him, wondering if he was serious, and noted the smirk tugging at the corner of Kurt's face, and that twinkle in his eye that suggested someone looking for trouble. He smirked back. "No, I will _not_ tell you that story."

"What? Why?" Kurt stared. "I want to know!"

"It's just…" Blaine shuddered a little. "It's like opening Pandora's box. So much _evil_ flying out—"

"Come on." Kurt frowned. "It can't be that bad! You _were_ in love with him!"

Groans resounded from all around the room. "Please, Alice—don't bring that up," Evan begged. "We liked to think of that time as a big hallucination."

"His," Ethan said, to clarify. "Not ours—we went on record to have completely advised the Rabbit against fraternizing with the Knave."

"On a marginally related note, we also went on record that we knew absolutely nothing about anything that involved pudding during that past year." Evan smiled innocently. "This includes any explosions in the school cafeteria that may or may not have put the ovens out of commission."

Blaine just glared at them, but Kurt waved his hand to get his attention, looking expectant. "Well? You have to tell me, you know. How are we supposed to go without learning from the past mistakes?"

"_You_ are most definitely _not_ a mistake," Blaine smiled, leaning to him, so close that made him blush. Shane, from where he sat at the couch watching Reed draw something in his sketchbook, groaned. "Oh mush. Get a _room_ already!"

"You're all in _mine_," Blaine shot back, staring daggers at his brother.

"_His_ room, then?"

"Oh not there, please," Reed glanced up with a small smirk. "The canvases for my presentation in the Dalton Art Hall are still drying. Wouldn't want anyone getting too rowdy in there. Would get paint all over the furniture…"

"You test my love for you, van Kamp," Kurt said coldly from the bed, making the smaller boy laugh.

Blaine laughed and shook his head, then looked up at Kurt. "So have you decided yet? If you want to sing with me or sing a solo for the duel tomorrow?"

"Choose wisely!" the twins yelled from the fort, evading a very annoyed Wes and Dwight's Nerf attacks. "We're going to put up a fight!"

"You?" Kurt raised an eyebrow. All this time that he'd been in the Warblers, he'd not quite heard the twins sing on their own other than the short moment back when they'd sung Trashing the Camp with the rest of the house.

"Harvey wants energy, he gets some energy." Evan grinned. He frowned when Dwight crowd in triumph after managing to hit him in the temple. He shot back a couple of times and Ethan added, "We're singing together! You better be ready to beat us!"

The thought was inconceivable, to the rest of the house. Blaine and Kurt were easily two of their best Warblers, both having taken lead position. There was no doubt in anyone's mind that if they chose to duet, they would snag lead positions—if their singing I Should Tell You was any indication of their ability.

Blaine looked at Kurt. "Well…are we going to sing?"

Kurt seemed to hesitate a little. "…Blaine—I think I'll sing solo."

This surprised Blaine somewhat, but it didn't seem to displease him. He sat up and smiled curiously. "Oh?"

"My last lead was a duet, with Reed. And my last duel had me singing with you. I want to sing by myself for now—show them I can handle a solo position too. I want to show them I could hold my own for…say…Regionals?" He smiled.

Blaine laughed softly. "You're pretty driven."

"Well, I try." Kurt beamed. "Besides…" he smiled a little, "…as much as I'd like to sing with you, I think I want to try singing _to_ you. I haven't done that yet, I think. And…" he remembered singing with Logan back in Stuart House. It made him feel guilty just slightly, as he'd now sung with him more times that he'd actually sung with Blaine. "…I'm allowed to express myself through song."

Blaine seemed to consider this and slowly smiled. "All right. Well, that's an idea too." He sat up and smirked. "But you're going to have to deal with me singing to you too."

Kurt narrowed his eyes at him. There was something about the way he grinned that seemed suspicious. 'What are you planning?"

"Nope—can't tell you—I'm competition," Blaine grinned. "You'll have to wait. And you'll have to deal with it when it comes."

Now Kurt felt _really_ worried. "What? What do you mean? What are you thinking of doing?"

"Well if we're going with public declarations of love through song…" Blaine grinned and just walked away, leaving the sentence hanging in the air where it was. He turned to the living room. "Shane—you ready to go?"

At this, the two on the couch looked up. Reed turned white, his drawing hand paused mid-stroke. Shane glanced at him and then looked at Blaine with a smile. "Yeah. I'm good."

"Good for what?" Reed asked, looking at him.

Shane turned to the smaller boy and smiled a little. "I only came to see you. I've seen you. And…now I have to go home. Well," he shrugged, "as much as the word can be used loosely—I'm basically just staying in our house here in Ohio."

"So you're…leaving." Reed stared.

"I don't go to Dalton," Shane answered with a shrug. "I have to go back home and recover—then it's back to Walcott, remember?"

Kurt carefully watched the medley of emotions racing across Reed's face as he struggled to sort them out. Clearly he was torn between Shane staying and going (the latter can be supported, but the former could barely be articulated) but in fine style, Reed seemed to recover himself. He managed a shaky laugh. "Right. Of course. Makes sense."

"Why _can't_ I just be at Dalton?" Shane said loudly to his older brother with an incredulous look.

Blaine gave him the level gaze of someone who had endured a year of staying in Windsor and understood precisely what madness meant. "You've met everyone in this house. If I threw you in with the mix, I might actually go crazy."

"You're boring," Shane made a face at him as he rose, seeming not to notice Reed's intent gaze. "Live a little. Isn't your prefect back? You can take in another stray…" He tried to give him his best "pity me" look, but Blaine, a veteran defender against Shane's whining, pleading and overall tantrums when he didn't get his way, just passed him.

"Let's go…" the elder brother said as the Tweedles started to wave at them. "Say goodbye to everyone."

Before Shane or Kurt could say anything, Reed leapt to his feet. "We'll walk you to the car!"

"We will…?" Dwight raised an eyebrow incredulously, but Evan elbowed him hard in the ribs. Dwight rolled his eyes with a sigh, exasperated, wondering why everyone can't just go and be together instead of all this difficulty. Straight to point, and all that.

The troop came downstairs together—"What are you off to destroy this time?" Charlie had demanded, and when informed that they were merely seeing Shane off, the prefect looked rather relieved—and headed out to where Blaine's car was parked.

Shane turned back to the others as Blaine took out his keys and unlocked the car. "Well…I guess this is it. Again." He grinned. "See you around."

"No mountains." Wes warned. "Far _far_ away from mountains."

"I study in Colorado, near the Rocky Mountains—that's not really helping the cause," Shane replied with a sidelong glance.

"He's right," Kurt said, smiling as he gave Shane a quick hug. "Stop making us worry about you, will you? Sometimes you can be as danger prone as Reed, you know?"

Shane glanced at the painter and smiled. "Me? Nah… Can't be injuring myself. Because between Reed and I, someone has to keep the other on their feet."

Reed smiled faintly, telling him, "I had fun taking care of you for a change."

"Don't get used to it." Shane winked.

"Here." Dwight stepped forward and suddenly shoved something to his chest. Shane was nearly pushed back, but he caught it, and held it to the light. It was a crystal pendulum. "Uh…what's this?"

"Good luck charm," Dwight mumbled, a little red and not quite prepared to explain in detail. "Keeps you safe. Makes it easier to find you if you were…you know…lost again. I gave Blaine one too."

Shane glanced at his brother, who just smiled and shrugged. "Yes he did." He added a "play along" expression, which Shane eagerly complied with, turning to Dwight with a big grin. "Thanks! I could use this! You know, I'm a geographical idiot, honestly. Let's go out hunting again sometime."

"If you can keep up with me and not end up being fodder, why not…" Dwight just shrugged and stepped back.

Reed then stepped forward, and immediately, all of Shane's attention was his. The smaller boy smiled and held out another tube. "I…managed to finish this painting. Wanted you to have it. You know that first one I gave you…it wasn't really finished. And it did fall so…maybe this can replace it."

Shane, curious, made to open it, but Reed grabbed his hands. "No! Don't look at it. When you…get back home, you can."

Shane stared at Reed's hands on his and turned a little red before looking up at him, seemingly bedazzled. "…okay. Sure. Whatever you want."

Blaine rolled his eyes. Shane's IQ was plunging and he could tell. "Shane? Let's go before we add brain damage to your list of injuries?"

The younger brother shot his brother a glare but quickly turned back to Reed and smiled. "See you again some time."

Reed hesitated for a moment, hands still on his. He felt breathless, mind racing as he looked up at Shane's green-gray eyes. The last time they'd said goodbye had seemed lacking. And here they were again. It was another chance. Carefully, he whispered, "…you mean that? You won't…suddenly up and disappear on me again?"

Kurt raised his eyebrows. As far as daring went for Reed, this was leaps and bounds, and even Shane could tell. He smiled gently and clasped Reed's hands. "I'm not going to disappear. If you need me, I'll be right over."

It was Reed's turn to color scarlet. He nodded a little and released the taller boy. "…okay."

"Okay," Shane smiled at him, that same happy grin he saw that morning after Reed made it clear that he would tolerate him. "See you." Shane nodded to Kurt. "Take care of my brother please! He's like a snail—solid outside and too soft and gooshy inside. His pace with romance is explained that way too."

Blaine resisted the urge to toss his brother into the car. "Shane—let's go!"

"Don't worry," Kurt laughed in answer as Blaine started the car. "I've got it covered."

The Twins happily helped Shane into the car, Evan nearly forgetting to hand him back his crutch, and slammed the door shut after him. The brothers smiled at the Windsor conspirators. "See you later," Blaine told Kurt, who nodded. Shane waved at Reed, and the engine roared; the two were off to the direction of the main gate.

As they watched them go, Kurt stood next to Reed, arms crossed and smirking. "…and…you didn't say anything. Again."

"Not yet…" Reed whispered, smiling as he watched them go. He was clasping the Rembrandt ring Shane gave him, hanging from a silver chain around his neck. "…I'm going to. When…when I'm ready. I'm not brave yet…like he is. But I will be."

"Looking forward to it, then." Kurt smiled.

While the others headed back to Windsor, Reed stood watching after the car still. It wasn't like the last goodbye at all. It felt like he'd forgotten to say something, or failed to come through his end of the bargain the last time they'd said it. But now…it didn't even feel like goodbye. It felt like it wasn't too late.

And Reed finally realized what he wanted to sing for the duel. A song that should've been for Shane if he had stayed, but maybe now wasn't the time yet. Maybe he had to say it to himself first, so he knew it was true. And was it ever true…

And as he headed back to Windsor, he felt…happy.

_I don't know but I think I may be fallin' for you_

_Dropping so quickly_

_Maybe I should keep this to myself_

_Waiting 'til I know you better_

_I am trying not to tell you but I want to_

_I'm scared of what you'll say_

_So I'm hiding what I'm feeling_

_But I'm tired of holding this inside my head_

Kurt, hearing him, started to smile as his friend rejoined him, face flushed, as they both headed back to Windsor House. The two linked hands, Kurt almost bursting out laughing at the spring in Reed's step.

_I've been spending all my time just thinking about you_

_I don't know what to do; I think I'm fallin' for you_

_I've been waiting all my life and now I found you_

_I don't know what to do_

_I think I'm fallin' for you…_

_I'm fallin' for you…_

Reed burst into his room and threw himself onto the bed, staring at the ceiling in wonder, barely able to respond to Kurt's obvious laughter at his starry-eyed expression. He grinned as his friend threw a pillow into his face. Reed pushed it off and picked up the ring.

He remembered New Year's Eve at the party. That midnight countdown.

_As I'm standing here and you hold my hand_

_Pull me towards you and we start to dance_

_All around us I see nobody here in silence_

_It's just you and me_

_I'm trying not to tell you__but I want to_

_I'm scared of what you'll say so I'm hiding what I'm feeling_

_But I'm tired of holding this inside my head_

Reed leapt off the bed and swung around the bedpost, almost tripping as he did so and Kurt looking exasperated as he tried to keep his friend together. But even he couldn't help but smile as Reed's mood persisted—and persisted to the point that people would actually feel guilty about trying to make him stop when he looked so happy.

And even as he stood in front of the Warblers the next day, singing this same song, the rest of the group were moving along to the music, grinning at each other at the sight of the bright look on Reed's face. Even Medel and Harvey looked amused.

Reed lifted his head, eyes gazing into the distance.

_Oh I just can't take it…_

_My heart is racing…_

_The emotions keep spinning out…_

He grinned as the Warblers started clapping along as they moved to his song and even he started to move a little bit, feeling simply, unbelievably light.

_I've been spending all my time just thinking about you_

_I don't know what to do; I think I'm fallin' for you_

_I've been waiting all my life and now I found you_

_I don't know what to do_

_I think I'm fallin' for you…_

_I'm fallin' for you…_

The song came to a close and the Warblers burst into cheers and applause at Reed's best performance to date. Reed, flushed and bright-eyed, bowed politely, brushing the hair out of his eyes as even the two directors clapped, nodding their approval.

The Twins hooted and catcalled as Wes and David cheered, clapping so hard that their hands hurt. Kurt was laughing and Blaine just grinned, knowing exactly who the song was for.

As Reed returned to his seat, he received approving jostles from the rest of the boys—almost getting knocked over—and it was clear that everyone thought that he was one of the best performers. Before Reed, a majority of the Warblers had dueled, from Windsor, Stuart and Hanover, but so far only Logan and Reed had shown promise.

Logan had sung the same song he practiced with Kurt—but he had sung it with Julian, who had been "borrowed" for the occasion. They both did excellently, but Kurt knew it wasn't the same. Julian was a great singer, but his countenance put some of the boys off, and the truth be told, it just didn't have the same meaning as when Logan and Kurt sang it.

Kurt glanced to Logan, who had also clapped for Reed, and pushed down the guilty feeling. Logan could still qualify—he was one of the strongest contenders, with or without him. While there was no doubt that if he'd sung it with him, they'd be catapulted to a guarantee of the lead… He just wasn't the one Kurt wanted to sing to.

"That's quite a bar being set," Medel said happily, grinning at the boys. "Let's keep going, shall we?" She looked at the list with Harvey, who then said, "Ah. Our countertenor is next."

Kurt smiled, blushing politely at the applause he now garnered from the others, who were expecting his performance. As he rose, he felt Blaine and Logan's eyes on him. He shook off the feeling and walked confidently to the front.

He stood in front now, the spotlight on him. He nodded to Drew, who was the one holding the guitar this time. Kurt wanted no backing vocals. He just wanted to sing this song, alone, to Blaine. As he caught his eye, he smiled as though saying that the song would explain everything.

He took a deep breath and began.

_Take me where I've never been_

_Help me on my feet again_

_Show me that good things come_

_To those who wait_

_Tell me I'm not on my own_

_Tell me I won't be alone_

_Tell me what I'm feeling isn't some mistake_

_'Cause if anyone can make me fall in love…you can…_

Blaine began to smile slowly, eyes lowering for a moment as he now understood—the reason Kurt wanted to sing alone. True, he wanted to sing with him…but it was different to be sung to. Especially when Kurt could sing the way he did—when he meant it the way he did.

Kurt smiled at him.

_Save me from myself, you can_

_And it's you and no one else_

_If I could wish upon tomorrow_

_Tonight would never end_

_If you asked me, I would follow_

_But for now I'll just pretend_

_'Cause if anyone can make me fall in love, you can_

The Windsors grinned at each other as the two continued to gaze at each other as Kurt sang. David, clearly in a far better mood than before, elbowed Blaine's side, and the other boy just swatted him off as though trying to stop blushing. He only nodded to Kurt, who smiled a bit more.

Harvey looked to where Kurt was staring so intently, and divined what was going on. He smiled to himself and at the two boys.

It _was_ a love song after all.

_If you asked me I would follow_

_But for now I'll just pretend_

_'Cause if anyone can make me fall in love—_

_Only you can take me sailing in your deepest eyes_

_Bring me to my knees and make me cry_

_And no one's ever done this_

_Everything was just a lie and I know, yes, I know_

Kurt caught his breath for a moment, staring intently at Blaine—seeming to have forgotten the rest of the world. This was not lost on Logan, who watched them both with that small, silent smile that never quite became a real one. He lowered his eyes, looking at his hands, nodding slowly to himself.

Kurt always sang beautifully, in his opinion. It was just that he couldn't help but continue to wish that the song would, at some point, be directed to him—that gaze that was being given to Blaine, who returned it unwaveringly, was something he wanted more than anything. He wished he could stop wishing, but if he knew how, he would.

_This is where it all begins_

_So tell me it will never end_

_I can't fool myself_

_It's you and no one else_

_If I could wish upon tomorrow_

_Tonight would never end_

_If you asked me I would follow_

_But for now I'll just pretend_

_If anyone can make me fall in love, you can…_

The song slowly came to a close. And at the final line's conclusion, the Warblers started applauding again—along with a smattering of catcalls and hoots from the Windsors and Hanovers. Kurt smiled, laughing a little at them and nodding to Blaine, who was applauding with a different kind of smile in his eyes—gentle and understanding.

He turned to the two directors and grinned at them. Medel just laughed but Harvey nodded in approval and gestured for Kurt to return to his seat.

"Well there you have it," the man rose from his seat with the clipboard. "We're almost to the end, but it looks like the bar is going even higher now. Let's see…" he looked down at the sign up sheet and smiled a little bit, curious. "Evan and Ethan Brightman are next."

"Yes!" The Twins leapt up, grinning. They gave each other high-fives and eagerly ran forward, waving to a few other Warblers over to join them. David and Wes grinned and fled their chairs.

"This is unusual," Medel said with a curious expression at the Twins, who have never dueled before. "What brought this on, you two?"

"You wanted energy in a performance," Evan quipped, grinning.

"And we'll give it to you," Ethan chimed in.

"This _is_ for a Fair," Evan said.

"So let's dance!" Ethan said happily.

Harvey nodded and gestured for them to go on, looking intrigued. Kurt leaned forward with Reed, also looking curious.

David landed down onto the piano and cracked his knuckles and the other Warblers took to position. The Twins grinned at each other as David began to play the music. And then in chorus, they began to sing, hands clapping to the beat, the Twins stepping forward to take the lead, moving perfectly synchronized.

_Woah-oh, oh-oh, oh-oh, oh-oh_

_Woah-oh, oh-oh, oh-oh, oh-oh_

_I kinda feel like it don't make sense…_

Evan moved forward dancing along to the music, taking the first part with a grin at everyone and clearly very taken by the music as he swept along.

_I'm thinking, baby, you and I are undeniable_

_But I'm finding now love's unreliable_

_I'm giving all I got to make you stay_

_Or am I just a roadblock in your way?_

The Warblers burst out laughing at the song choice, amused, and were also starting to move to the beat as Ethan now sidestepped his brother, stepping in front of him and grinning as he moved and sang to the music.

_Cause you're a pretty little windstorm out on the boulevard_

_Something like a Sunset, oh you're a shooting star_

_And I might drive myself insane_

_If those lips aren't speaking my name_

Ethan winked at Kurt and Reed—who collapsed laughing—and the Twins returned to the group, clapping their hands above their heads, urging the others to do the same. The Two started chorusing together, grinning and dancing along to the music with all the energy they promised the directors.

_Cause I got some intuition,_

_Or maybe I'm superstitious_

_But I think you're a pretty sweet pill that I'm swallowing down_

_To counter this addiction, you've got me on a mission_

_Tell me darling, can I get a break somehow?_

_(How) could I say no?_

The entire group started to sing, even the Warblers sitting down, grinning at the infectious energy the Twins spread with their grins and their movement. They were even making faces as they danced, as though imitating Blaine's onstage antics, who burst out laughing in spite of himself.

_She's got a love like woe_

_Woah-oh, oh-oh, oh-oh,_

_Girls got a love like woe (la-da-da)_

_I kinda feel like it don't make sense_

_Because you're bringing me in and now you're kicking me out again_

_Love so strong, then you moved on—_

_Now I'm hung up in suspense,_

_Because you're bringing me in and then you're kicking me out again_

Ethan then stepped forward as the music dropped, the music stopping, and only David's playing remained. "_Cause we only have one life…"_

Evan leaned behind him, "_The timing and the moment, all seem so right…"_

The twins back to back, as came together in singing:

_So would you say you're mine?_

_(We'll be just fine)_

_Would you say you're mine?_

_(We'll be just fine)_

The Twins looked up and grinned and began urging everyone to clap along again as the music came back in—and they happily obliged.

_She's got a love like woe_

_Woah-oh, oh-oh, oh-oh,_

_Girls got a love like woe (la-da-da)_

_I kinda feel like it don't make sense_

_Because you're bringing me in and now you're kicking me out again_

_Love so strong, then you moved on—_

_Now I'm hung up in suspense,_

_Because you're bringing me in and then you're kicking me out again—_

The hall was clapping along and singing to their music, fascinated by the Twins who had never quite stepped into the limelight before singing-wise. They were certainly very good, and they put everything that had into it with no holding back the way they always did.

Even as they danced with each other, moving through the chairs and urging others to move along with them—they certainly knew how to work the audience up.

And when the song ended, the hall started clapping wildly and leaping to their feet as the Twins started high-fiving everyone in the group in front. Medel was laughing happily, clapping for them. The Twins proceeded to make deeply exaggerated bows at everyone, blowing kisses and pretending to accept flowers.

Harvey just shook his head with a short laugh at the two hamming it up in front and began to gesture for silence. It still took a few moments before order could actually be restored, especially as the Twins continued to hug people as though they'd just won Grammy Awards, on their way back to their seats.

"You two are _impossible_," Kurt told them as they finally relocated themselves to their seats.

"Yes, but you liked it," Evan grinned with a wink.

Reed just laughed and shook his head. "Fine…maybe we did. But you two are still impossible."

"We'll take that as a compliment," Ethan answered, smiling smugly as he leaned back in his seat. "We're going to snag a position and we'll happily pelt the lot of you with paintballs while you slave away for Fair preparation."

"I don't think so," Blaine smirked as he rose from his seat. "I've yet to perform. And seeing as how you both know what I'm going to do, I think I can give you a run for your money."

As the Twins laughed, Kurt stared at him, perplexed. He'd seen how Blaine performed onstage at Sectionals—and as far as hamming it up goes, he'd so far ruled with those moves he subjected everyone to. But didn't he say something about public declarations? "What are you talking about? Blaine! What are you up to now?" He raised an eyebrow.

To which Blaine coolly responded, "Patience… Prepare for humiliation, I don't plan on holding back." He grinned and headed to the front.

"For the love of—" Kurt sank his face into his hand and Reed just patted him in sympathy, but now without a cherubic grin.

Wes leapt from his seat and tagged David. "You going to come with us or what?"

"Oh, so he's doing _that_ one?" David grinned as he looked up. "I thought he was saving that for the real crowd on Valentines?"

"Kurt's here right now—let's grill him while we have the chance," Wes answered, which earned him a magnificently rendered glare from the countertenor near them—that glare could set things on fire. The two just grinned and ran off to join Blaine, the Twins following.

"Ah, Blaine…" Medel smiled as he approached her from where she sat by the instrument rack. "Our final performer. Are you ready?"

Blaine scooped up a guitar and grinned as he tuned it up. "As I'll ever be…" he shot Kurt a look, and his boyfriend only rolled his eyes at him. This only made him smile more as he glanced to the others. "You guys ready?"

"Whatever, dude, you're the one Kurt's going to kill for this," Wes grinned. "Staking claim and all that."

Blaine laughed. He began to strum the guitar to the melody, and the Warblers behind him started to whistle casually for a moment. Reed perked up, curious, as Kurt raised his eyes. Logan raised an eyebrow at the grin on Blaine's face.

Blaine slowly started moving forward, eyes fastened onto Kurt, as he began to sing:

_Let's pretend baby…_

_That you've just met me_

_And I've never seen you before…_

Kurt sat up, staring as Blaine started to move through the audience, grinning, the Warblers in audience snickering. Blaine was grinning adorably at him, moving to the music in that way he always did as he continued to sing. At the next line, he nodded to the other Warblers.

_I'll tell all my friends…_

_That I think you're starin'_

_And you say the same to yours…_

Kurt sank his face into his hand again, deep scarlet. Blaine wasn't just standing in front singing to him—he was actually _going_ to him, _singing directly_ at him. Reed was laughing so hard that he was barely able to sit straight as the Warblers in audience started to move to the music.

Blaine suddenly tossed the guitar off to Bailey in the nearby seat—who caught it and continued playing smoothly, clearly in on the act as well.

_And oh, we'll dance around it all night_

_And then I'll follow you outside_

_And try to open up my mouth_

_And nothing comes out right_

Blaine reached Kurt, leaning to him and grabbing his hand and pulling him to his feet—Kurt frantically peeling his hand away as he colored crimson, presumably wishing the floor would eat him right about now. Blaine was undeterred, dancing around him in that unnecessarily hammy way.

_And I wanna fall in love with you again_

_I don't have to try; It's so easy_

_Who needs to pretend?_

_But because it's so funny_

_Let's just think about it, honey_

_Let's just fall in love again…_

The Warblers were restraining themselves from cheering too much at this, watching Kurt try to successfully glare at Blaine through his hand on his scarlet face. Harvey stared, raising his eyebrows at the spectacle as the Warblers still in front continued to dance and grin. Singing in front was one thing—but this performance was beyond even serenading. Medel was trying—and failing—not to grin so much.

Blaine moved around Kurt, trying to pull the hand from his face.

_I'll call you in three days_

_Not too soon, not too late_

_And I'll ask your roommate if you're home…_

He leaned to Reed on this last line, winking at him. And the smaller boy erupted into laughter and turned traitor, shoving Kurt forward to Blaine. Kurt almost lost balance, but Blaine held onto him with a grin and started pulling him forward to the front. The Warblers cheered. The Stuart ones stared, aghast.

_You call me on Thursday_

_And we'll hang out all day_

_Then fall asleep on the phone_

The Twins, from the front, started urging everyone to clap again, this time doing more—they were hauling people to their feet to join their dancing in front. Blaine reached the front with a very reluctant Kurt, keeping hold of his hand and urging him to dance with him.

_And oh, I'll hold your hand when we drive_

_And we'll lose track of all the time_

_And we'll tell everyone_

_That we ain't never felt so alive…_

Kurt was just smirking slightly at him now, unable to quite believe that his composed boyfriend was actually capable of these levels of crazy, but even he had to start moving along a little when he saw the other Warblers leaving their seats and joining the dance party in front.

_And I wanna fall in love with you again_

_I don't have to try; It's so easy_

_Who needs to pretend?_

_But because it's so funny_

_Let's just think about it, honey_

_Let's just fall in love again…_

Blaine smirked, pulling him close as Kurt leaned to him, clearly starting to humor him. His hand at the small of Kurt's back, he moved close to him and started to lean him back, swaying him from side to side before leaning him fully back:

_We'll fall disgustingly fast_

_And we'll stop hangin' out with friends_

_And they'll be so offended…_

At the last line, Blaine was so close over Kurt's face he could've been kissing him in another inch, and the Warblers erupted into hoots and catcalls. Medel laughed out loud in surprise, mouth open, Harvey dropped his head into his hand at this madness—nearly all the Warblers were standing by now and joining along to the song and there was no stopping them by now.

Kurt grinned and just shoved Blaine back, the latter pulling them back straight up and taking his hands to dance with him as all the Warblers began to sing along with Blaine:

_And I wanna fall in love with you again_

_I don't have to try; It's so easy_

_Who needs to pretend?_

_But because it's so funny_

_Let's just think about it, honey_

_Let's just fall in love again…_

_Let's just fall in love again…_

_So, let's just fall in love again…_

At the end of the song, everyone cheered, applauding and hooting at one another, especially the two in the middle. Kurt and Blaine received a great deal of playful shoves and nudged from their fellow Warblers—most of them shaking Blaine's shoulders as though to congratulate him for some reason. Logan was one of the few who didn't join in the madness, but he too nodded a little as he clapped lightly at the performance, smirking slightly.

Kurt just laughed shortly and shook his head, giving Blaine an attempt at a dagger glare. "You—!" And he couldn't articulate any words that would explain how much he wanted to smack Blaine at this moment while at the same time perhaps kiss the breath out of him. He ended up with a roll of the eyes and sighed with a smile. "You're an idiot."

"Whatever works," Blaine smirked.

* * *

When the Windsors poured back into their dormitory afterward, they were still laughing so hard they could barely stand straight. The uproar in the Hall could barely be controlled after that number, and it took Harvey a good fifteen minutes before actual order was restored. And even then, they were a rowdy group as they started to place their votes, catcalling and shooting jokes. Kurt was crimson the whole time he was filling out his own vote—for himself, of course—and Blaine just sat with a grin on his face, maybe proud of instigating it all.

"The _look_ on your face, Alice!" Evan howled as he hung on the banister rail, his twin hanging onto him.

"Your face looked so hot we could've made pancakes on it!" Ethan choked, gasping for breath.

"Do not _ever_ do that again!" Kurt shot at them all. "Putting me on the spot like that with that crazy song number—"

"Oh you liked it," Reed grinned, earning himself a glower from his best friend. "You even started dancing at the end!"

"We should've shoved someone during that dip Blaine gave you!" David exclaimed. "If Blaine kissed you in front of Harvey and Medel—"

"We'd've all ended up in Ramsey's office, maybe?" Kurt retorted, still red around the ears.

"But it would've been _so worth it_…" Wes gasped, trying to stop laughing and leaning onto David's shoulder, rumpling his friend's blazer. This brought another fresh round of laughter among them.

Kurt sighed and shook his head, smiling at Blaine who was still holding his hand. "I can't believe Harvey and Medel wouldn't announce the winners."

"Well there _were_ a lot of performers this time around, the vote's going to be complicated—and they'll have their input weighed in too…" Blaine smiled. "But they did say they'd post the winners tonight on the school website; at the page for the Valentines' Fair program."

"I hope I get a spot," Reed said meekly. "It would be nice not to have to work during the Fair."

"Hoping to go with a date?" Kurt smirked at his roommate as they all headed upstairs to their rooms. This made the smaller boy blush, his answer of "hoping…" barely audible.

"I honestly don't see what you see in Shane," Blaine shook his head.

"Thank goodness you don't—it'll be worrisome if you _do_," Reed raised an eyebrow. He headed to the room he shared with Kurt ahead, leaving the couple in the hall. The Twins had vanished again, perhaps looking to terrorize their prefect, who was living in relative peace at the end of the hallway while the conspirators had been away for Warblers' meeting.

Wes and David walked on to their room, talking about how David planned on taking Katherine to the fair, while Wes planned on finding a date at the fair itself. He had resolved to get over Tabitha, who Derek would be taking. This pleased David, who never quite liked that girl.

They ignored the usual sound of the blaring television in Dwight's room; he was probably on another marathon—which was often disturbing to hear seeing as how he could quote nearly every episode in Season One word for word.

Kurt turned to Blaine, who smiled. "So, Kurt Hummel…" Blaine murmured, pulling him a little bit closer. "May I ask if you had anyone in mind to go with you for the Valentines' Fair? I understand it's still a bit of a way off, but…" He smiled.

The countertenor smirked at him. "First you declare to the entire Warbler group that you and I are together, nearly brought the whole Hall to shreds, breaching several personal boundaries, mine in particular… and now you're politely asking who I will go with to the Fair. Right, Blaine. I've half a mind to let you go stag."

Blaine laughed. "You're not really mad about that, are you?"

"A little warning would've been good," Kurt sniffed. "But I did say _half a mind_…"

Blaine leaned forward and kissed him. Kurt resisted with the incredible effort of almost one second before he finally just let him, kissing back. Blaine pulled away slightly, leaning close, lips still a breath away. "How's your mind now?"

"…a little hazy," Kurt admitted, gazing at him through veiling lashes.

"Good…" Blaine's breath wafted hot over his cheek, hand pressed firmly onto his back, keeping their bodies against each other as he leaned closer to kiss him again—

—until an earsplitting scream erupted from Kurt's room.

"_Kurt!_"

Kurt and Blaine came bursting through the doors, and from behind them there were pounding footsteps in the hall, and suddenly Wes and David nearly knocked the first two over as they came in.

"What happened?" Dwight gasped as he broke through them, medallions clutched close and sprayer in hand. "Who screamed?"

"Reed!" Kurt gasped, looking at his friend, standing at his side of the room. He was standing, unharmed, not bleeding and was generally in one piece. "What is it? Why were you screaming?"

Reed turned to them, face white as he pointed with a shaky finger towards the golden cage that stood at Kurt's side of the room.

Cage door open, standing empty.

"Pavarotti—he's gone!"

* * *

_On the next episode: Valentines Day is hectic enough in Dalton without having to deal with losing a prize warbler, New Directions, Pure Energy spies, love song duets and rumors that the food is laced with laxatives. Anyone could tell you that it's rare that a Dalton Valentines' Day is described as "romantic" but if any of the Windsors had a say in the matter, this year's was going to be perfect._


	21. Mismatched

_Hi, I'm CP Coulter and I'm your author for this fic._

_I first apologize for the delay. And the changes which will take place from what was expected. When I first began Episode 21, I had a certain plan for it, and then I handed that plan to my original characters-who proceeded to...well...take it all over the place elsewhere. It expanded into ginormous ways, and I ended up one day with over 31,000 words and as of yet no end. As a result, the next three episodes will be a mini Valentines Day arc, similar to the New York Arc that I previously presented. This is why it took so long-I ended up creating three chapters for what was supposedly one. It simply wouldn't let go, and I had to see it through. So here it is, the first part of a three part arc which will be released in succession._

_I continue to thank the support of the fandom, of the Kurtsies, of the Glee fans in general, as well as the actual Dalton Academy Warblers, especially Dominic Barnes, Aaron Page, Curt Mega, Luke Edgemon and Riker Lynch who continue to indulge their fans far more than is necessary (Dominic and Aaron in particular, with their encouragement of "Dalton")._

_Again, I apologize for the lateness, and hope that you enjoy this episode and the succeeding arc._

_(I do not own **Glee **or the Warblers. But I do know that I love them endlessly.)_

* * *

**Dalton**

**Episode 21: Mismatched**

* * *

_I'm Kurt. And this is Dalton Academy._

_I imagine that things should be smooth sailing towards Valentines' Day._

_Who in their right minds would like to make Valentines' Day a worse occasion than it already was?_

…_pretend I didn't just ask that and jinx the whole thing._

* * *

Kurt was trudging back towards Windsor House after another faux study session with Logan. They barely did anything at all—it lasted only half an hour, the both of them talking about neutral things, such as the terminal level of stress that was falling down over all the Warblers as the Fair approached. About how the professors were getting into the spirit and openly inviting other schools to come visit. And, of course, how the House rivalries reached a fever pitch as each House struggled to hold the best booths for the fair.

The two of them talked as though representatives standing at the edge of a battle line, negotiating with each other on how much information they were willing to give. There wasn't a lot to share, but Kurt could tell that his staying was more for Logan's benefit than his. It had been a while since he'd begun his lessons with him and the whole time, he had seen Logan and remaining relatively calm.

This had to be the only reason he was there, after all. To make sure that he didn't go too far over the edge,

"Are you keeping up with it, though…?" Logan had asked casually that evening. "You have to put up with all of the preparations happening everywhere, and at the same time have the additional pressure of being chosen as one of the leads."

Harvey and Medel came through with their word. Not long after the duels, the results were posted online to the great excitement of everyone. There was a commotion that had rose when everyone found out that it featured an odd combination: Blaine, Kurt, Reed and Logan had all made it in, and while that was predictable, the defining factor was that no one knew who sings with whom.

This had positively terrified Reed—who knew he would end up getting partnered with Logan if the directors choose to pair Kurt and Blaine together for the duet.

Kurt had responded to Logan, "Having the lead position is never an added pressure for me—I've been after the position for a long time. If anything, it's a _reward."_ To which Logan had only laughed and nodded.

He and Kurt had not sung together since that first day, and it had never been mentioned. Logan did not bring the matter of duets up, and when he did now, it was to say, "You know, Reed should start to come over to practice. Or is he too afraid of me?"

"I think he may well be for obvious reasons," Kurt raised an eyebrow. "If he'd meet you anywhere, it'll be somewhere public, like the Hall."

"I suppose so," Logan agreed. "You and he are getting along?"

"Too well."

"You can tell him that I mean him no harm, then," Logan laughed. "And that, even though Medel hasn't officially said who sings with who, we really do have to start to practice. How about you and Blaine…?"

"We rehearse whenever we have free time," Kurt answered smoothly. "We're testing Windsor's patience. They can listen to our set of prepared duets only so many times. I think Wes knows every word already."

Logan leaned back, arms crossed with a smirk. "And speaking of tested patience… Is Pavarotti still wreaking havoc?"

Kurt's glare only made him laugh even more.

The truth was that even if the prize Warbler _was_ in Kurt's room, it technically hadn't been his fault that Windsor House's doors and windows have been locked up for over a week. Every single nook and cranny that the bird could conceivably hop through had been shut tight—as it would appear that even though the illustrious Pavarotti had fled his cage, the bird wasn't quite prepared to abandon Windsor.

More than one boy had spotted him flying into open doorways, alighting on banisters and beams, and peering curiously at the on goings in Windsor House, doing a far better job at overseeing everything than Charlie himself did. Incidentally, the prefect continued to remain unaware that the bird was at large at all—Wes and David were sure that there would be hell to pay if Charlie found out that the prize Warbler was loose in Windsor with no one having any idea on how to get him back into his cage.

They tried, of course. And were still trying to no avail. Kurt thought that he might as well tell Logan, because he was the one supposedly taking care of the bird (as far as the teachers knew) and he was still going to catch fire if anything happens to Pavarotti, especially when he had the chance to get him back and did not.

"It's an ongoing fiasco…but at least while it's still freezing, we still have an excuse to keep all the doors and windows closed."

Logan nodded. "Well then if Windsor has it under control…"

"Windsor is never in control."

A laugh from the taller boy. "True. But the ambiance must be more relaxed than in Stuart."

"Have you all considered cutting back on your terrifying amounts of coffee, then?" Kurt grimaced, remembering the kitchen.

Logan raised an eyebrow. "This from the one who gets flooded with coffee cups in the morning?"

Kurt stared. "How did you know that?"

"Those Tweedle twins you've got in there talk a lot." Logan smiled. "I know their antics must not make things easy for you back in Windsor. How are you holding up in classes?"

Kurt just sighed and gestured to the books. "I'm starting to think I only got the ninety average on the assessment because of maniacal studying and the combined help of Blaine and the others. I'm down to what is apparently "average" in Dalton standards again."

"At least you're not failing," Logan smiled. "And I'm still helping you with Murdoch."

"Yes, let's all worship the great Murdoch," Kurt rolled his eyes. He then got up and began putting books into his bag. "Since the conversation has gone full circle—I think it's time to call it a day."

Logan looked only very mildly disappointed. "You won't have to keep doing this for long. You'll be off the hook in a little while."

That was true. Kurt only had a few days left before the "tutoring" condition got lifted. He thought about that as he walked away from Stuart House, and found that he didn't find doing time in Stuart to be completely heinous. And the truth be told, it seemed to be more therapeutic for Logan than it actually was about his studies.

Even the Warblers had noticed the distinct change in the Stuart Prefect's composure, how he seemed to be amiable and—heaven forbid—_friendly_, and people had very little doubts as to why.

Kurt exhaled, the mist issuing from his lips as he trudged through the grounds and keeping onto the pathways in an effort not to get slush onto his shoes. It was failing beautifully, and he heard a voice calling. "Kurt! Hey—Hey Kurt, wait a second!"

He turned and saw Bailey jogging after him, grinning. He still had those headphones on, turned so loud that when he reached him, Kurt could hear the music beating out of them from where he stood. "Bailey. What is it?"

Puffing from the jog, Bailey held out a notebook. "You left this in Logan's room."

Kurt raised an eyebrow as he took it. "Does Logan always get his minions to do his work for him?"

"He was going after you, but I thought it wouldn't be a good idea to let him run after you when you're so close to Windsor House," Bailey grinned. "He agreed. Your dorm's pretty touchy, and they wouldn't have stolen Pavarotti if they weren't particularly unhappy."

Kurt stared. "And…you're fine with this?"

"Pavarotti is a hostage of war and we know we're not getting him back from you guys unless someone as barefaced as you guys steps up to plate to attempt to steal him back." Bailey put his hands into his pockets and looked awkward. "Actually, I meant to ask you something. We never did have that talk either so I guess now's as good a time as any."

Kurt raised his eyebrows in prompting, and Bailey shrugged. "Hoping this doesn't come out wrong or anything, but…you and Logan…officially _nothing_ there, right?"

"I'm dating Blaine," Kurt said with finality.

"Oh good," Bailey looked relieved. He saw Kurt's questioning expression and got flustered, "Oh! No, nothing like that, god no, but I just…you know… I know you and Blaine are… And what with all the problems with Logan and Blaine last year… so I got worried that—"

"A lot of people spend a lot of time worrying about those two," Kurt finally remarked, narrowing his eyes.

"For good reasons, I assure you," Bailey replied. "Because it wasn't actually bullying, the worst of it, it was treated as "instigating conflict" and "physical assault" on campus grounds. Blaine had the self-defense card and that was the only reason he wasn't actually expelled. But as for Logan, Ramsey threw him out. Mr. Wright had to step in to keep him—he was back in Stuart pretty fast…"

"And their third person involved?"

Bailey seemed surprised that he knew that much. "He could've stayed too, he wasn't actually in as much hot water as Logan was…" Bailey looked awkward. "But he got scared…he left and he didn't come back."

Kurt now just looked intrigued. "So you know what happened? Everything?"

"I'm thinking just the Stuart side of things," Bailey shrugged, hands in his pockets. "But if you really want the story, you'll have to ask Logan and Blaine directly."

"Well they'll never talk." Kurt rolled his eyes. "They only ever talk about it, or to each other, for that matter, when I don't seem to be around. I've overheard them argue enough times to know."

"Hey that's a good thing," Bailey supplied, grinning a little. "At least you know that they're not bringing you into their fight. But I thought Blaine and Logan were getting along a little better now?"

Kurt had to agree somewhat. They certainly still exchanged words with some hostility in their atmosphere, but it wasn't at all like that time when he overheard them snarling at each other through their teeth. "I'd like to think that they're making some progress in…I don't know, getting over it?" He rolled his eyes, walking towards Windsor.

Bailey fell into step next to him, and said, "You're okay, though? This isn't stressing you out?"

"I'm plenty stressed out," Kurt answered. "Between holding them apart and the academics, and Warblers and that _fair_ coming up—"

"What are you so worried about the fair for? You're not working." Bailey snorted.

"It's open to the public. Which, as lead, will be _my_ adoring public, and I have to make sure that I'm adequately prepared to perform in front of them," Kurt smirked, making Bailey laugh.

"So it's true," he said almost ruefully. "You _are_ a bit of a diva."

"I didn't make it obvious?" Kurt laughed.

"Well good, Logan needs someone with a lot of personality that'll dare to talk back to him, and Blaine needs someone who can keep up with his moods…" Bailey grinned. "Interesting performance, by the way. Really enjoyed it. Glad you liked it."

"That, I will still…have to get back at him for," Kurt replied, remembering that dancing in Warblers' Hall and turning scarlet. They stopped walking just outside of Windsor.

Bailey nodded and said, "Well this is as far as I go." He looked at Kurt seriously. "Listen… you just be careful, okay? I'm glad to see that Blaine's happy again with you, and I don't like the situation of you having to deal with Logan's obsession either. But I think it's great that you try to help him a bit."

"If he stays calm, we'll stay on good terms," Kurt answered simply. "If he goes too far, I will blast him."

"Don't doubt it for a minute."

He and Bailey parted ways, and Kurt mulled Bailey over—he was the only Stuart that actually went out of his way to talk to him, and warmly, at that. The other Stuart Warblers were all right when in the Hall, but outside of it and inside Stuart House, Kurt could feel the exactness of the politeness they gave him.

He knew Bailey's friendliness towards him cost the Stuart some love from his dorm mates. Kurt had twice overheard them remark to Bailey, only half seriously, that he should move to Windsor. Bailey didn't really mind them, but Kurt could tell that between the house rivalries, Bailey was skirting a thin line.

And like everyone else, he acted was as though he had knowledge of some things that Kurt was still oblivious to. Kurt glanced back and watched Bailey heading back to Stuart for a few moments. Maybe Blaine, Logan and the Windsors had no plans of talking to him about things, but maybe he could get Bailey to tell him the story.

Kurt opened the doors to Windsor House. The blast that met him was nuclear.

"_SHUT THAT DOOR!_"

He immediately slammed the doors shut and a stampede of boys raced out of the kitchen, chasing the little yellow troublemaker that had been plaguing the house. Pavarotti swooped gracefully over their heads and landed on the upstairs banister.

Some of them were armed in nets, but as Windsor house was running full steam into booth preparation for the Valentines' fair, the house was crammed with all sorts of material that they were using to build. Kurt saw some of them waving long wood planks.

"You're going to end up killing that bird!" Kurt shot at the boys as they rushed up the stairs, Wes and David running upwards with nets and the Twins taking two steps at a time on the staircase bounding ahead of them.

"I got him!" Dwight yelled from the upper landing and swatted wildly at the bird at the rail.

"Dwight—be careful! Don't crush him!" David gasped.

Pavarotti was not quite so alarmed—possibly now used to the Windsor commotion—but he flew off just as Dwight reached the banister rail. He landed on one of the roof beams, and peered down at the boys below him as though amused and curious.

Kurt laughed and shook his head. "He's a lot smarter than a lot of the people in this house." As he headed upstairs, he added, "Where's Blaine?"

"In his room, singing, like he always is," Wes grumbled, staring malevolently at the bird that had previously swooped around his room. Pavarotti was unruffled by the glowers of the rest of the House occupants.

Kurt walked up the stairs and said, "You guys are going to want to tone it down—Charlie will be back any minute from varsity, and he'll go asking about what you're up to this time."

"This bird's more trouble than he's worth," Wes grumbled.

Dwight, however noted that as Kurt vanished into the hallway of the second floor, Pavarotti observed him. And a few moments after Kurt disappeared, the bird winged off into the hallway as well to disappear.

Kurt went into his room and found Reed's art _everywhere_. Canvases, pastels, oil paints, easels—Reed's room looked like it got hit by a grenade of art. This signaled the red flag going up immediately—especially when Reed seemed to have broken the cardinal rule—do not let _any_ of this go into Kurt's side of the room.

Unfortunately, Kurt saw two or three scrolls of heavy paper covered with watercolors on that end lying just by his desk. He pressed his fingers onto the bridge of his nose in an attempt to summon calm. He tried very very hard to remember that Reed was under pressure for the forthcoming Parents Night that was scheduled to happen not long after Valentines, and that Reed was apparently to present yet another exhibit.

Dalton was showing off its best talents for the parents, donors and board members, and Reed, unfortunately, was now stretched between Warblers and his painting. Kurt suggested that he just use things he's already finished, but Reed nearly had a heart attack. For one thing, most of his paintings still remained in the Upper West Side gallery where they were waiting for their buyers. Secondly, Reed couldn't _not_ present new art as his mother had promised to come to the Parents' Night and she would be expecting him to produce better output than the last time.

"Better" in art may be subjective, but Reed's definition of "better" was something that will make his mother happy enough to not bring up his being in the Warblers again. Hence, new work.

Kurt lifted his eyes. "Reed."

No response.

The boy in the paint-splattered overalls was lying on his own white bed with absolutely no concern about whether he was getting his paint on it or not. It was amazing how Reed could stand having all that white in his room where half the time he paints in it and it would end up looking like someone threw up a Picasso onto the whole side.

"Reed?" Kurt repeated more firmly this time.

Still no response. Reed was lying on his stomach on the bed, eyes scarlet and puffy. He had a glossy "book" (which was to say, a lookbook) opened in front of him. They were new, so they probably came from wherever his mom was last—Milan. Reed was brutally flipping through the gorgeous pages of gleaming models and blinding clothing, and covering each page with stickers right at the clothes.

After watching him tear through about five more beautifully photographed pages, Kurt narrowed his eyes. "Reed…? What are you doing…?"

Another savage flip of the page. Another stab of a sticker. "…choosing my clothes from the runway shows."

"…Reed, there's five stickers on each page."

"Yes well I want everything." Another frustrated stab. "I'll wear everything at the same time. Who cares? It's not like I'm going with anyone to the stupid fair." Flip. Stab. "Stupid fair." Stab. And another stab.

Kurt sighed and carefully went over to him, exercising caution as he peeled him away from the books. Valentines' Day wasn't even here and it was already becoming troublesome. "Let's go…come on…"

Reed was a complete rag doll—he didn't even protest as Kurt dragged him off his bed. But Kurt tutted in impatience and his friend at least walked with him before flopping down onto the couch. Kurt sat primly next to him, tossing his satchel somewhere where it wouldn't crush any paintings. "You have _got_ to get a grip," he said without preamble.

"I tried calling. I got his voicemail. _Hi, this is Shane and I'm most likely doing something more important than talking to you, so leave a message—"_

"Shane's voicemail doesn't sound like that—I know because Blaine calls him."

"Well fine! It's just that…well he said if I called when I needed him, he'll be right over! And he's not answering!" Reed hugged his pillow. "You can't blame me for being a little disappointed. Is it so wrong that I want to spend _one—_just_ one_—Valentines' day with someone I marginally like more than friendship?" Reed complained. "Just to, I don't know—see if it was as big as deal as everyone made it out to be?"

Kurt groaned in exasperation. "It's a commercial holiday, Reed, I thought you of all people would know that. It's just a fabrication. If you want to spend time with someone you like, there shouldn't be one set day."

"But you're still prioritizing spending the whole day with Blaine," Reed raised an eyebrow.

Kurt sat up a little straighter, flushing a little. "That…while being true…is not the point." He glowered at Reed when he started to laugh at this. Kurt turned to him and said, "You'll be fine. Whether Shane starts picking up his phone or not, you'll be all right. Besides, you might be running in a little too fast into this."

"What do you mean?" Reed asked as he leaned back on the couch.

"Well, no offense, but you said you were still a little bit confused." Kurt gave him a withering expression of doubt. "And everyone of sane mind questions your selection of Shane. You and he are pretty much clashing colors."

"I don't feel confused when I look at him."

Kurt raised his eyebrows at his tone. Reed was staring at two paintings at one end of the room. One was a riot of colors, the other was a silhouette of a person, surrounded by smooth swirling tints that spiraled upward. "…I wish I knew why. It's like all the voices in my head shut up."

Reed stared at his hands. His phone was in it. No messages. "…but I guess you're right. …maybe it's a little…fast. And…I'm getting myself too worked up."

Kurt considered him and nudged him a little. "You really like that curly-haired screwball all that much?"

"If I said no, would it be convincing?" Reed gave him a pained smile. "Because I've tried telling myself that in the mirror a million times—it's not convincing me."

"Fine—but Blaine and I are chaperoning you two. You're accident prone, and he's an accident waiting to happen."

"I have to get a hold of him first," Reed glared at his phone. "He's not setting foot back to Dalton without a good reason, I might as well give him one."

"Why _isn't_ Shane bugging you at all hours of the day…?" Kurt wondered out loud. "I would've figured your little stalker would ask if he knew about the fair, but even Blaine can't get a hold of him…"

* * *

"Finally!" Blaine glared at the window, phone to his ear. "What have you been doing? I was just about to go over there and see if you broke your arm for real this time."

The laughter on the other end was jovial and breathless. "_Oh man, I'm sorry. I was—well, I was busy."_

"Tell me you're not destroying anything in there again, Shane."

"_I'm destroying my weakness, but that's about it._" Blaine could almost hear him grin.

"What do you mean?"

"_I'm…healing."_ Shane stifled a laugh. "_I'm giving myself physical therapy. I want to be able to walk and maybe run by the time your fair thing came around_."

"What?" Blaine asked incredulously. "Look, are you sure you should be doing that? You might just hurt yourself more, you need time to heal."

"_Look, I'm a dancer, I'm in the best shape of my life prior to the accident—I can handle this. Blaine_, _I am __**so not**__ taking Reed to the fair on crutches. There is no way. So I'm ignoring my phone, focusing on nothing but getting better and walking or something._" Sound of something metal hitting something wooden. It might have been a crutch coming in contact with the antique Austrian couch. Blaine winced as a knock came in his door. He crossed the room to address it.

"_And yes, maybe I haven't asked him out yet, but once I'm confident in my condition, I will bug the ever loving hell out of him until he agrees. I'm talking spamming his phone until it explodes or something. He'll have to say yes if only to get me to shut up._"

"I don't put it past you," Blaine raised an eyebrow just as he opened the door, and found Kurt there as usual, smiling at him. Blaine smiled back and let him step in as he told Shane, "Look, can you at least promise me not to overdo it? Remember when that one time you wanted to make sure you were in perfect condition for a performance and you broke the dance hall mirrors?"

"_I stand by my claim that it was an accident and the mirrors shouldn't even have been in that position."_

"Yes, because blaming inanimate objects and fixtures is always the way to go. I have to go. Kurt's here."

"_Well don't let me interrupt your passionate makeout session."_

"Good_bye_, Shane…"

"_You're going to get to the next base eventually, right? You're not going to stay glacial like that, right?"_

Blaine rolled his eyes and hung up. Kurt was looking at him in surprise. "Was that Shane?"

"Yeah." Blaine pocketed his phone and sat next to him. He leaned forward and gave Kurt a kiss. As Kurt returned it, he said, "He finally answered his phone?"

"Yeah, but the situation is nearly the same as I imagined…" Blaine pulled him closer.

"Blood, destruction and broken bones?" Kurt leaned into the kiss a little bit more.

"At least he's breathing…"

Conversation trailed away in favor of warm kisses and touches that wandered past cloth—hot breath and lips that trailed over heated skin. Kurt shivered as his shirt rode up just enough to expose that sliver of skin at his waist that Blaine's questing fingers trailed over.

"Mm…so much for practice tonight, then…" Blaine breathed against Kurt's lips as Kurt leaned into Blaine's hand on the small of his back. They usually didn't let hormones get the better of them in light of all the other things they had to do, but Kurt wasn't one to turn this down.

"Please stop talking…" Kurt admonished softly as Blaine brushed his lips over Kurt's jaw and down over to the pulse. "You're ruining the mood…"

"I'm just saying…" Blaine murmured over the beat of Kurt's pulse. "You're the one who's worried about the pairs… and Harvey and Medel did say to prepare for _anything_…"

"Mm…we're prepared, I think…" Kurt leaned so far back that he fell against the couch pillows, Blaine following him down and moving over him as their lips met again. Blaine pressed down on Kurt, one hand cradling the other boy's head as they kissed deeply. Just as thought began to eke away, overpowered by touch and heat—

—a soft chirp echoed above their heads.

Both boys froze.

The chirp repeated itself.

Kurt raised his wide eyes over Blaine's shoulder to see that on the back of the sofa, at the highest point of its shallow arch, stood a little yellow bird.

"…oh my god."

"Tell me that's not…" Blaine closed his eyes without moving or turning.

"He's close enough to hop onto your shoulder," Kurt whispered, not taking his eyes off the curious little warbler.

"Damn it, Pavarotti…" Blaine made to move but Kurt grabbed his arm. "Shh!" he hissed. "You'll scare him off."

"We can't catch him with our bare hands anyway…!" Blaine hissed back. "How did he get in here?"

"Probably flew in when you let me in," Kurt responded, hands itching to grab the little bird from where it was currently preening as though without a care in the world. His eyes wandered around, looking for something they could probably use to catch him with, unlikely as it was, and saw that Blaine's window was open.

"The window."

Blaine glanced to it. "I forgot to close it before letting you in."

"He'll fly out."

"On the count of three—I'll close the window, you run to the door and call the others, just make sure he doesn't get out. At least we've got him trapped in my room."

The bird just chirped.

The two boys locked eyes—and bolted in opposite directions off the couch. Pavarotti fluttered quickly upward, thus beginning what would be the biggest fruitless chase of the night, culminating in the near complete obliteration of Blaine's dorm room.

* * *

"All right, we heard that all of you have been getting concerned about how little we've focused on the fair," said Harvey as he walked before them the now empty Hall. The others had been dismissed. The only people who now remained were the four leads for the Fair performance, and the understudy pair, the twins.

"But I want you all to know that this is because this performance is basically routine for all of you. There isn't a whole lot of pressure on this the way Regionals and Parents' Night performances are and we wanted most of your focus on that. Aside from that, we are wholly confident in the abilities of the four leads…" Harvey nodded to Blaine, Logan, Kurt and Reed, all of whom sat together. "And their seconds." He nodded to the Twins, who grinned brightly. They had placed just after the other four in the vote.

Medel spoke from where she sat the piano, smiling at the four. "We've selected the pairs as well as a list of songs you all may choose from."

Kurt glanced at Blaine proudly. Kurt had done nothing short of borderline haunting the female director and pelting her with hints about the songs that he and Blaine had already been practicing. He had very little doubt that he and Blaine would end up with the plum duet among the list. There was no way he was giving up that particular song—it worked too well with him and Blaine and they'd practiced tirelessly.

Harvey nodded to the four boys and glanced at the sheet music. "Well then, as the first pair will be our two standard-bearing leads, the second pair will be our newcomers—"

"Wait." Kurt stood rigid before he could stop himself. "What do you mean, the first pair are the two standard leads and the second are the newcomers?"

The Twins' mouths hung open in shock. Harvey pulled off his reading glasses and glanced at Kurt, not sure how to take his reaction. "I don't think I can be clearer than I already was. The first two will be Logan and Blaine. You and Reed will be the other pair."

Kurt looked at Blaine with wide eyes and Logan sat looking startled. Reed immediately looked distressed, wringing his hands as both Blaine and Logan now looked at each other with piercing sidelong glances.

"It was the obvious choice," Harvey continued, wondering why he even had to explain this. "Logan and Blaine have more experience so they should be able to work together better. Kurt and Reed have shown that they are excellent together as well in their performance during Winter Fest and that incredibly unorthodox cheer performance that apparently happened over the football game…"

Kurt sank back into his chair looking a little shaken. Reed looked at him, whispering, "Don't get me wrong—I'm thrilled to _death_ that I'm not partnered with Logan, but this…" he glanced to where Blaine and Logan looked rigid in their seats, clearly deep in serious thought. "…this is kind of bad."

"Bad?" Kurt stared hard at his friend, the word hissing through clenched teeth. "Bad is that fall Beyoncé took down the steps during her concert. We are talking _what the hell _like Lady Gaga being ineligible for the Best New Artist award in the Grammys here." He turned to the two sitting next to him.

Blaine was hardly ever one to protest Harvey and Medel's judgment but he didn't move when Medel held out the list of song selections that he and Logan were to choose from for their duet. Logan was the one who leaned forward and took it with a smile at Medel, who gave them a look of confusion. Kurt carefully took the sheet from Medel, holding it between his fingertips as though he wasn't prepared to do so without safety gloves.

Medel gave them a look over, and then glanced at Harvey. Harvey knew distress when he saw it, and he knew that this reaction should've been rather expected.

"I understand that you all might have been expecting something else," Harvey remarked, looking at them. "But we believe our selection of the pairs are sound." He turned a hard gaze at Logan and Blaine. "And I understand that everyone in this room is perfectly aware of the problems you and Logan may have had in the past—" the room was virtually icy at this point, "—but part of being in the same team means pushing past that. If you and Blaine can't work together in this, then you're not going to be able to work well together in the Warblers as you should be. Avoiding each other during performances might work for you, but you've got to meet head on in this one. Find a way to deal with it."

"And Logan, Kurt," Medel smiled apologetically. "I know you both can work together well, but since the Fair will be open to the public and we haven't finalized anything for Regionals, we want to keep you and Kurt on reserve."

"Wait—" Blaine looked up as Kurt felt the color drain from his face. "What do you mean, Logan and Kurt?"

"They've…never sung together before," Reed said with a short, nervous laugh.

The Twins looked immediately to Logan who, for once, looked a little taken off guard. Medel smiled a little, not sure about what was going on, but said, "I've heard Logan and Kurt sing before. I was trying to get Logan to do a little better—he didn't seem to be taking it so well after the holidays. I asked Kurt to step in and help him with a duet and…" She threw up her hands a little with a short laugh. "They were quite a pair. They're not like when you sing with him, Blaine, and they're not like when he sings with Reed. It's…interesting."

"How interesting?" the Twins asked with frozen smiles.

"I told them that they had a likelihood of performing together for Regionals," Medel answered.

Reed sank his face into his hand. Blaine looked at Kurt, who was staring at the floor with intensity to set it on fire, rigid. Logan eyed him, then Blaine's startled expression, and then turned to Medel. "Be that as it may, _they_ are not singing together this time. Blaine and I are." He smiled that same composed smile that won parents and professors over left and right. "There shouldn't be a problem then, since Blaine and I have sung together in the past."

Harvey knew Logan far too well to fall for that grin. He had seen it once before, used in an occasion with him and Blaine involved, but the third person wasn't Kurt. And Harvey knew that he was being faced down by another powder keg. The question was whether or not they could even diffuse this enough to perform well at all, no matter who the pairs were.

He narrowed his eyes at the group. "…I'd like all pairs to prepare a demonstration by tomorrow."

All of them stared. "T-tomorrow?" Reed stared.

"Yes, tomorrow," Harvey gave them all a hard stare. "You have the songs, you all have time on your hands, and you know who you're singing with. Most of the songs on your list are ones already in our repertoire, so you can get any other members you would like as your backup. Tomorrow is more than enough time for a short demonstration. Just to see what you boys can do."

* * *

Windsor was a disaster zone—debris of booths and banners and Fair necessities were scattered all over the dormitory. Boys were running back and forth through the halls, carrying materials for booths and the sound of construction and work was everywhere.

Charlie worked tirelessly, overseeing everything. He looked down at his clipboard where all the boys had listed their approved booths for the fair and looked over the progress.

"Look, Drew—are you sure this is right?" he asked the boy in the lab coat. "You can't actually be selling love potion."

"Technically it's a love _serum_," corrected the chemist, pulling up his goggles. "Pheromones and other substances that can produce mild euphoria combined in a single serum! It'll be effective, trust me. It'll be the hit of the fair."

"As long as it doesn't _explode_ before you actually get this stuff out…" Charlie eyed the chemistry setup in the kitchen. "And keep them far far away from the food for the fair." He strode out of the kitchen just as there was a powerful whistling sound from within and he calmly ducked as the kitchen was rattled with an awe-inspiring boom.

"Okay…" Charlie scratched off that project on his list. "Let's see now…" He looked up at the entrance hall and groaned. "Guys, _come on_! Don't leave this stuff here!" He kicked some plywood boards on the floor, half painted. "Whose—" He saw that the letters spelled out, "Jail booth" and sighed. "Wes! David!"

"It would be a whole lot easier to keep track of everything if David wasn't on the phone all the time!" Wes yelled from the common room where he was building the jail bars. He gave his best friend a glare but David turned to him, pointed to his phone and mouthed, "Katherine."

Wes sighed deeply and just nodded. "Yeah, all right…" and continued to hammer.

Charlie did a double take at Wes' dejected expression. "…single for Valentines, Wes?"

"First time in a couple of years, yeah."

"Better than having that harpy on your shoulder." Charlie grinned. "Or was it Banshee?"

"You're single for this year too, Chaz, please—we heard about you finally giving Leslie the axe after she screamed at your cousin," Wes snorted and Charlie colored scarlet. "That girl's got some serious jealousy issues."

"A guy's got to put his foot down when a guy's got to put his foot down," Charlie sighed.

At this instant, the doors to Windsor banged open and something far colder than the wind entered. Charlie looked up along with the others, and Dwight frowned from where he was sitting on the stairs. Blaine looked upset, Kurt looked frustrated, Reed looked scared and the Twins were disapproving, arms over their chest. At this point, everyone could see that Kurt had just wordlessly skipped his mandatory tutoring session at Stuart, and that wasn't a good sign.

"You're back," Dwight said in surprise as Blaine passed him without a word or a greeting to anyone else in the house. Dwight turned to Reed when Kurt did the same. "How'd it go?"

"Awkward," Reed replied softly.

Dwight blinked and glanced back to where Kurt and Blaine disappeared upstairs, both followed by the little yellow bird that had been observing from the rafters. "What did Logan do now?" Wes demanded from downstairs, looking up.

"Shockingly, it wasn't just him…" Reed shrugged a little, worried. "Harvey and Medel want Blaine and Logan to sing together for Valentines."

It was a bad time to be doing anything whatsoever in that entrance hall. The boys sprayed their drinks and dropped their tools and things. And all flashbacking to the events of yesteryear, the boys exploded:

"_WHAT?_"

* * *

"All right."

When Kurt slammed the door, it almost made Blaine jump. He hadn't expected him to follow. Kurt was frowning. "You've been quiet all the way back, you wouldn't look at anyone. What is your problem?" He tore off his coat and dropped it and the satchel unceremoniously onto the floor.

Blaine gave him a glance. "Nothing is wrong."

"Yes, obviously, since your brows have been so knitted together they might as well be a Gap scarf," Kurt snapped. "Tell me what's wrong. You're not hiding anything from me—I know you well enough by now."

"Interesting considering that apparently there are still things about you I don't know…" Blaine muttered under his breath.

Kurt straightened up. "What did you say?" he demanded, eyes narrowing.

Blaine exhaled as he took off his coat. "So now you're singing with him…?"

"Medel asked me to," Kurt said, frowning as he sat on Blaine's bed. "I was there, _Julian_ was there, we heard him sing and she asked me to sing with him. I don't really see the big deal here, can you clarify?"

Blaine just shook his head, fixing the music sheets on his desk. He glanced to the corkboard just once—very fleeting. "No. Nothing to clarify," he answered stiffly.

This was really starting to get to Kurt's nerves. He licked his lips and tried to calm himself. "Look. No one else would've done it. He was all drugged up again. None of you like him—"

"For really good reasons, though?" Blaine answered almost sarcastically.

"—and I just wanted to show him that someone was willing to tolerate him."

"You kind spend a lot of time with him as it is, seeing as how he's practically stalking you."

Kurt looked scandalized and he felt heat rise in his chest. "I'm being tutored by him thanks to Murdoch and we don't even talk about that much else." He gestured towards Stuart House in frustration. "We talk about school, about the Warblers, about how deeply stressed out everyone in Stuart his and how hyper everyone in Windsor is." He held himself cold for a minute. "…I…I sung with him in his room once." He quickly continued when Blain seemed to exhale and throw up his hands. "But just once! To practice for the duel, and it's never even come up again. I sang to _you_ then—I didn't sing with him, even. Julian did."

"So what else haven't you told me?" Blaine said silently, not looking at him where his palms were pressed hard onto his study desk.

Kurt stared at him, hardly able to believe that he was getting worked up about this. He sighed in frustration and said, "What is the problem here? I sang a _practice duet _with him. Did you think I spend my time in Stuart flirting with him?"

"Well you don't deter him!" Blaine suddenly snapped.

Kurt flushed furiously, rising to his feet. White hot rage was funneling quickly through him. "What do you mean, I don't stop him?" he demanded, voice rising. "I tell him each time that I'm with you and that the situation is unlikely to change! He's the one who keeps pushing!"

"Singing duets with him encourages that pushing," Blaine answered, turning to him. He looked agitated. "He thinks he has a chance and all this is just making it worse—!"

"You're saying _I'm_ making it worse?" Kurt exploded, striding up to him. "You're the one making a mountain out of this! I don't see him that way—all I want to do is keep him in his place, which is at arm's length from you and me!"

"How is this arm's length?" Blaine asked, incredulous and matching his intense glare. "Tell me, Kurt, because it looks like you and he are starting get a little too close for comfort! You want me to just sit here and watch that happen?"

Kurt narrowed his eyes. As far as troubled waters went, he and Blaine were about to have a storm. "So you think, that I'm running around behind your back, is that it?"

"No!" Blaine answered, even though his face flushed as his own voice rose. "I'm saying, you should take it from someone with a lot more experience with handling that lunatic—he's trying to get into your head! He's luring you to him!"

Kurt snarled. "Yes, Blaine, because I'm a complete idiot and I would definitely fall for that one—I'm sorry, have you _seen_ him? I may not know what he had been like when you were with him, but from my viewpoint, he's miserable, he's drugged, everyone in campus nearly hates him, and if trying to tell him that he's not alone is wrong—"

"It doesn't work that way when _he's in love with you_," Blaine burst out, almost spelling it out for him. "You're not helping him, Kurt—you're not! You're _leading him on_! You're letting him think that you may have some smidgen of feeling for him and he's out there just fanning the flame! The safe bet is to just stay away from him and let him work it out by himself! If you want to help him, he's _got_ to be weaned away from you!"

"And by himself, he's falling apart!" Kurt yelled back. He groaned, exasperated, throwing up his hands. "This isn't even about him, is it? It's _you_! You don't trust me! You're practically telling me that I am cheating on you! All this being 'too close for comfort'? It looks like your comfort levels are a little sensitive!"

"And _they have a right to be_!" Blaine shot back. "I've seen this all happen once, I don't want it to happen again! And especially not with _him!_ You could've at least _told _me this was all going on—I didn't want to listen and to stand there and find out through _Medel_ that my ex and my boyfriend are serenading each other when I'm not looking! And I would've thought you'd take some of my feelings into consideration before running off with him!"

"I am _not running off with him_!" Kurt screamed. "Why can't you just understand that _it's you that I'm in love with_?"

Blaine stared.

Kurt didn't know when the tears happened. But they were hot and angry and they ran down his cheeks once and never flowed again. There was too much rage and frustration to cry. He didn't want to even look at Blaine anymore. He was going to throw something at him in the next instant and he was going to end up making sure that it would be something that would leave a bruise. Or maybe a concussion that would wake him up to the fact that Kurt was fighting to keep Logan away from Blaine and their relationship. That in everything Kurt had done, he had let Logan know with repeated confirmation that Kurt and Blaine were together and nothing Logan said would change that. And that the only way Logan would ever accept it is if he stopped being so angry—if he had someone who didn't look at him like he was a total monster.

Blaine didn't know what to say when he saw the tears. Everything inside him felt cold, angry and betrayed. He told Kurt what happened with Logan himself. He couldn't understand why Kurt couldn't just stay away from him or why he had to keep treading that line between them—why he had to hide it; why would he hide it if he wasn't guilty? He couldn't understand why Kurt wouldn't listen—why he couldn't just be with him and ignore Logan and his advances. It was all too much, it reminded him too much of before—as though each bruise was still there—and he wasn't prepared to lose him and not to Logan. Not after everything.

But Kurt was crying. And Blaine was angry.

And both their words had hit home.

Kurt shook his head, biting his lip so hard he tasted the coppery tang of blood. He turned from Blaine and snatched up his scarf and satchel with a breathless choke.

"Kurt—" the name was out of Blaine's lips before he could stop himself.

It didn't matter—it went unheard. The screaming in Kurt's head was pushing out the rest of the audible world. With a breath broken with a sob, he strode to the door.

"Kurt!" the second time was intentional, but Blaine didn't—couldn't—move.

Kurt gave him one last look—it lasted barely half a second. That blue-eyed disbelief and disappointment that Blaine never wanted to see. And then he slammed the door shut and was gone.

When Kurt turned around in the hall, he had a hand pressed to his mouth, furiously trying to hold back the next sob. But when he raised his eyes, he saw several pairs staring back at him.

The hall was full of staring eyes. The Twins stood right outside the door, with Dwight, Wes and David. Charlie was at one side, and the rest of the Windsor boys in the hall were staring out of their doors, with Reed at the door of the room they shared. When the boys saw him look up at them, most of them fled. But the conspirators remained.

"Please tell me you didn't hear that…" Kurt whispered hoarsely.

"Hard not to," Wes said somberly.

David nodded slowly. "…you two were pretty loud in there."

"Worst domestic fight we've seen since Tabitha's visits," Dwight said without batting an eye and without a real tone.

Kurt just shook his head, furiously scrubbed the tear tracks on his face, pushed past the worried Tweedles and to his room across the hall. Reed sprang to life and followed after him, giving the others a look that assured them he would cover this end.

As soon as the door closed, Wes and David burst into Blaine's room with hard expressions and slammed it shut before Dwight and the Tweedles could follow.

"What the hell was that?" David demanded as soon as he was inside.

"I think you heard…" Blaine mumbled in a remarkably soft voice from where he sat at the edge of his bed, with his face in his hands.

"Yeah, we did, but I think we needed someone to translate it from idiot to English for us," Wes snapped. "What were you yelling at each other for like that?"

"We just…got worked up." Blaine said emptily, staring at the floor.

"Worked up doesn't mean opera-level decibels." David crossed his arms. "Now you mind telling us what the deal here is? Because this isn't like…you." He gestured over him. "You don't let it get to you, or not like this at least."

"It got me good this time…" Blaine sighed. He glanced to the door where Kurt had fled his room. "Really good."

What did it take to get Kurt to understand that Logan isn't just a complication—he's an entire condition on his own? They were barely weeks into the relationship and he's already winning if he's got them fighting this way. And he would've thought that after everything he heard, everything he was told, and after having to deal with the violence back at McKinley, he would save himself and Blaine the grief of having to deal with Logan that way.

"Do you have a particular reason here, Blaine?"

He looked up at David, startled. "What?"

"No, I just want to know," David said emphatically as he frowned. "If you have a reason to suspect that Kurt might actually have a thing for Logan and is encouraging him behind your back—"

"And that's _aside_ from practice duets, because seriously, David and I do that half the time and you don't see Katherine screaming at me," Wes glowered.

"You're not interested in David that way, Wes," Blaine muttered with great patience.

"How do you know?" David cracked a grin as he put an arm around his friend. "If I swung in your direction, Wes would be my first choice—as it is, we'd probably grow old together."

"See?" Wes grinned, matching the gesture.

Blaine wasn't laughing. He couldn't. He just sighed deeply and shook his head as he got up and went back to his desk and pushed away his schoolwork, trying to clean up. The fight got into his clothes, his skin, and nothing felt right.

He pushed the papers around a bit before suddenly turning to them and saying, "I _was_ right, wasn't I?"

The two looked at each other. Blaine continued. "This _is_ leading Logan on, isn't it? Singing love songs with him, hanging around with him… And Kurt didn't even tell me and _that_—why would he feel the need to do that if there wasn't anything to feel guilty about?"

"Maybe because this would be your reaction?" Wes supplied, raising an eyebrow.

When Blaine sighed and leaned back on his desk, David walked up to him. "Look… we're not saying it _wasn't_ a bad idea for Kurt to be humoring Logan this way. Logan Wright is the _last_ person you want to show a hint of weakness to."

"What we're just saying is…that maybe Kurt _did_ do it with pure intentions." Wes shrugged a little, flopping down onto Blaine's bed. "I mean yeah…really stupid idea, but… Kurt just doesn't strike me as the type to lead a guy on just so he could feel good about having two on a leash."

"Does he strike you as that?" David asked Blaine with a quiet expression.

Blaine didn't respond. He stared at the floor. At this expression, Wes finally nodded. "Ah… I get it." He got up. "This is about him, isn't it? This is about—"

"Yes, that." Blaine glared at him. "He didn't strike me as one either."

"You have to stop comparing him to Kurt, Blaine," David finally said, sounding a little impatient. "You have to stop, man, because he isn't Kurt and Kurt isn't him. Are you still holding a torch here?"

"What—_no_!" Blaine stared at him as though insulted by the mere mention, genuinely scandalized. "I'm in love with Kurt, all right—I wouldn't be this worked up if I wasn't." He flung himself into his bed, facedown. "Could the two of you just…go, for a minute? I have to…think."

David and Wes looked at each other at this and Wes shook his head. "Fine, well… Then you have to stop seeing everything as a replay of last year."

"It would help if Logan made it stop _being_ that way," Blaine retorted, staring at the wall.

"Hm…well…true," David shrugged. He sighed and headed for the door. "We'll let you work this out with Kurt."

"Yes, because the last person in question wasn't really the fighting type," Wes said thoughtfully. "Kurt, on the other hand, seems to have claws. It'll be good for you both!" He smirked a little and closed the door.

Blaine groaned and pulled the pillow over his head, ruining the hold of the gel and curls pulling free. It was going to be a long night.

* * *

"Kurt…?" Reed sat carefully at the edge of the bed. It was half an hour after the initial blast from Blaine's room and Reed had patiently waited for the incoherent and frankly ominous grumbles of wrath from Kurt's side of the room to die down. Now there was just silence, and underneath what had to be three comforters lay Kurt. Reed patted the lump gently, but it cringed away. "Kurt?"

"Go away."

Reed sighed deeply. Here we go. "Kurt…please talk to me? I mean if there's anyone in here in Windsor you can talk to—"

"You'll take his side. Everyone takes his side. Everyone _will_ take his side."

To which Reed said patiently, "While that's not true…does that mean you _are_ the one who did something wrong…?"

"No!" Kurt immediately sat up and Reed's expression fell at the sight of him. His face was flushed, his eyes were red—it was the image of someone who had cried, but he looked furious. The angriest cry Reed had ever seen. "Oh Kurt…"

"I didn't do anything wrong, Reed," he declared, sounding mildly stuffed up. "How could he accuse me of that? I bat away every advance, I start sounding like a broken record telling Logan that I'm dating Blaine—I even avoid _touching_ Logan like he's got the bubonic plague! And that's impressive considering that Medel once made us sit in the same piano stool when we first sang that stupid duet!"

And he flung himself under the covers again. Reed considered him for a moment and leaned against him, not really caring if he was leaning on Kurt's back or elbows. "Was it really that stupid? At the time, I mean?"

A fidget. Reed had to strain to make out the words. "…not really. I mean… he wanted me to leave, you know. It was on his face, he wanted me to go away."

"But…you didn't."

The mass under the covers sighed in true dramatic form. "…I wish you could've heard him sing then. He was gone. That wasn't singing. He sounded like he didn't care anymore. Like there was no point. Then maybe you'd _get_ why I had to try and bring him back a little."

"So…you did it to help him."

Kurt poked out his head from the covers. "Yes."

"Does it work? You helping him?"

"Have you seen him at practice? Even the Stuarts are surprised that he's acting almost happy these days."

There was a momentary pause, and Reed laughed suddenly, as though he couldn't help himself. Kurt sat up and frowned at him. "And what is so funny?"

"Nothing!" Reed said with innocent brown eyes.

Kurt's expression darkened. "I swear, if I hear someone tell me that when there's actually _something_ one more time—"

"Kurt…" Reed laughed, smiling at him pushing his shoulder. "Come on. You don't see it? You seriously don't?"

"See what?"

"Kurt—Logan must've told you a million times that he's head over heels for you," Reed said, rolling his eyes. "He's happier now because come on—who _wouldn't_ be happy if you had the person you like spending so much time with you, singing songs with you? Remember last week when I started dancing like a moron around this room because of Shane…?" Reed sighed with a silly grin.

"Yes, I chucked a pillow at your head," Kurt narrowed his eyes. "You were that bad."

"Maybe Logan's a little more restrained, but he's probably that bad too," Reed grinned and laughed. "You can't tell me you don't see that. That is an _insult_ to your intelligence and your supposedly incredible sixth sense." He made himself comfortable where he leaned against Kurt. "I find it both unsettling and cute that he could get so mushy."

Kurt said nothing. He was clenching his knuckles on the bed. Of course Logan was happy because he was with him. Sure, anyone could talk to him. Derek had been trying that for years, and with Julian around, that was two people. But what really must've made Logan happy was the fact that Kurt tolerated his presence. That he was with _him_.

_You're not helping him, Kurt—you're not! You're __**leading him on**__!_

There was a cold grip over his chest, swept over by hot anger. Maybe he had been. Maybe he had given Logan a false hope. Or did he? Did it count when you make it a point to not even touch him or bring up your boyfriend at nearly every occasion? What was so wrong in helping someone? For once he was thinking about someone else—someone who could potentially break himself to bits, and Saint Blaine rescuer of the gay and tormented doesn't think it's a good idea? Some double standard he's got!

…_all right, I didn't mean that. And yes, maybe that said "someone else" was Logan Wright, his ex boyfriend and…currently his rival for my…attention. But he __**has**__ all of my attention and why can't he just trust that?_

The nagging thought that persisted at him was why he didn't feel like he could just tell Blaine this himself. Maybe because there was nothing to say? Or did Blaine really deserve to know what was going on?

…was Kurt leading Logan on? Really? And that look on Blaine's face. Kurt had seen it before—that hurt expression Finn has when he got betrayed. Only he had never _ever_ imagined he would be the one cause that on Blaine.

He swallowed hard and threw himself back under the covers.

"Kurt?" Reed asked, concerned. "Kurt—"

"Please go away, Reed." His voice was soft. "I want to be alone."

Reed stared at him for a few moments, and it was clear that he was being dismissed. He patted the covers and then sighed. "…all right." He got up and headed for his own bed. "Do you, um…want any dinner?"

"…no."

Reed let it go. But only verbally. He took out his phone and sent out and SOS that flew to Lima, to the Jones' home. Mercedes had her headphones on as she sang along to some Destiny's Child, but the phone next to her did not go unnoticed. She grooved to the music and scooped up her phone.

"Ooh!" she smiled as she saw Reed's name. Kurt's little fashionable friend at Dalton. Maybe he was calling to have another shopping—

Mercedes stopped as she read the message. She stared. Then she ripped her headphones off, lips pressed into a grim line. "Oh _hell_ to the _no__._"

* * *

Blaine stood outside his dorm room the next morning, not quite sure what he was doing there. He had been dressed and ready for what felt like ages, with his coat on and his scarf, but he hadn't moved. He stood in the hall, staring at the floor, wondering why he was even there.

The door across the hall made a sound and he looked up. Reed was closing the door, wearing his thick mink, and the smaller boy did a double take when he saw Blaine. "Oh. Hi, Blaine."

"Hey…" Blaine shifted a little. He paused for a moment, not really knowing what to say.

Fortunately, he didn't have to. Reed looked apologetic. "Sorry, but Kurt left early this morning. He went ahead." He laughed a little. "I asked him if there was a fire, or something, he totally ran off."

"No, that's…" Blaine coughed and cleared his throat as he picked up his bag. "That's…understandable. I wasn't…actually waiting." He immediately fled the hall, leaving Reed standing perplexed.

Wes and David looked up when Blaine practically came running down the stairs, a set expression of fortitude on his face. "Let's go!" Blaine said as he passed by him with the worst show of cheer they had ever seen. He all but jogged past them and out the doors.

"This is ridiculous," Wes grumbled as he followed.

"On the upside, there's clear effort to overcome," David responded.

"I'd like them to _overcome_ right _now_!" Wes protested. "Before we get dragged into another mess!"

"Patience is a virtue…" David responded as he pulled him out the door. "Chaz, we're going!"

"I'm not your mother—just get out of here!" Charlie yelled back from the kitchen.

"Such a warm hospitable environment…" Dwight said with a grimace as he sat down at the kitchen. It was hard to find utensils now that Drew's lab equipment was there. Dwight must've picked up four different lab tools before he found an actual spoon. "What are you doing?"

"Trying to make sense out of all the things for the fair," Charlie answered. His hair was a mess, he was staring down at papers. "Justin and I are up to ears in the prep. Setup's already starting on the grounds and I would like you to _not_ sprinkle salt and holy water all around before construction—as far as you're concerned, Dalton grounds are officially purified and there is nothing more you can contribute to it."

"Uh huh…" Dwight rolled his eyes. "Right, I've seen more than enough incidents in this school to know _that_ isn't true."

Reed came in presently looking tired. "Hey," Charlie nodded to him. "Seen the Tweedles around? I'm worried they're setting things on fire. Since Dwight's here, they must be wreaking havoc elsewhere."

"Maybe they went after Kurt," Reed answered, standing on his toes to reach a high shelf. Dwight got up and took it down for him, being taller.

"Yes, because that'll help tide things over," Dwight snorted. "You did hear the two of them, didn't you?"

"Loud and clear," Charlie grumbled into his own cornflakes. "It's going to take every ounce of self control not to throttle Logan later at the Prefects' meeting."

"It's not entirely his fault," Reed murmured, looking worried.

"It's _always_ his fault," Charlie glared.

"I'm going," Dwight remarked as he headed out the kitchen. "I've got to go carry out a hunting plan of a different kind. If I run into Blaine, Kurt or Logan, I'll do my best to get this straightened out. I've dealt with demons, after all." He grinned as he 'holstered' his Holy Water sprayer and ran out.

"Well good, because Hell's empty, all of them are in this school!" Charlie yelled back.

* * *

"You can't avoid us," Ethan said cheerfully, haunting Kurt's right shoulder as the Twins chased him down the hall. It was incredible, the distance he'd managed to keep away from most of the other Windsors in the duration of the school day. Thankfully, the entire school would have the afternoon off. The Fair was approaching, and they were given time to begin construction. The school grounds were already littered with festivity prep.

There was so much Valentines in the air that Kurt wanted to hurl. Especially when he remembered that he was most likely going to end up spending it alone.

"You're going to have to listen to us!" Evan happily said, grinning from Kurt's left shoulder.

Kurt raised his eyes from his History book with great patience. "And what exactly do you think I can do for you?"

"We need you to make cookies for the fair!" Ethan said happily.

"Cookies…?" Kurt stared at them incredulously.

"They'll be really popular!" Ethan assured him.

"I'm excused from any and all fair work," Kurt said emphatically. "And all things considered, I think I need the time?"

"Please, Alice?" Evan begged. "Make the cookies! They'll be a hit! And lots and lots of talking flowers will come from all over the place to try them!"

"My cookies are _normal_, thank you very much—only you crazies ever seem to think they're not," Kurt rolled his eyes as he hitched up his bag strap.

"Excellent!" Evan grinned.

"Settled!" Ethan answered happily.

"See you at Warblers in a bit!" the Twins happily departed, content. Kurt watched them go and rolled his eyes, until he realized what they said.

Warblers meeting.

He may have dodged everyone else that morning, but before they all let out for Fair preparations, he would have to go to Warblers' practice. And there would be no escaping anyone then—and then he would _still_ have to watch Blaine and Logan perform what will have to be the most painful duet in Warbler history.

"Hello, Hummel."

He nearly jumped a foot into the air. Julian was leaning by the lockers set for the day students, smiling at him. Kurt wondered why Julian's smile in school looked so out of context. Sure, on TV and the posters, his smile was signature and he was Grant, the dazzlingly handsome musician who seduces the eldest daughter (and…all the rest of the daughters in succession) of the show's central family, but to see him smile like that in school was unsettling.

"Why are you following me?" Kurt asked, narrowing his eyes at him. "Shouldn't you be sniping at Logan with Derek?"

"Derek's with Logan right now, but I wanted to get you alone and ask you a couple of things." Julian walked up to him. "I heard there was quite the fight in Windsor House yesterday after you skipped your tutoring session."

Kurt groaned, exasperated. "Have _any_ of you been told that you gossip like girls?"

"Rumors travel fast, no matter what kind of a school you're in," Julian said with another catty smile. "Murdoch's not going to be pleased to hear that you cut on your sentence to battle with your boyfriend—who he can't stand, by the way."

"Yeah, I noticed."

"Mainly it's because he can't stand that the two of you are being so lovey-dovey all out and about ever since you set foot into Dalton."

Kurt stopped walking. He turned. "What?"

"You heard me." Julian straightened up and put his hands in his pockets. He walked up to him. "Murdoch's fine with gay people—as long as they don't parade. Logan is an example of the kind of gay person he _does_ like. The one who you wouldn't realize _is_ until you heard about it from someone else."

"Logan is probably the most notorious gay person in this whole campus." Kurt stated bluntly. "And the way he looks at people—"

"—is completely fake unless he's interested." Julian finished with a smile. "I've known him three years more than you do, Hummel, I know what he's like."

"So what are you going to do…tell on me?" Kurt rolled his eyes.

"Not really…" Julian sighed, walking with him. Kurt noticed that Julian wasn't wearing his blazer, and his shirt sleeves were rolled up. He was the picture of the casual air. He didn't care about how he looked—or anyone or anything, from his appearance and saunter. "He'll blow up on you, Murdoch I mean. And he'll punish you. And he'll tear you away from your little crazy land and plop you into Stuart."

Julian stepped in front of him and smiled. "And I don't want that to happen."

Kurt narrowed his eyes at him, and then nodded. "Ah. You don't like me."

"I don't loathe you." Julian smiled. "You're all right. You seem to make Stuart relatively hazard-free by diffusing our tempestuous prefect. But I don't want you in our House."

"I'm not even going to ask—because I have no intention of being in your house…" Kurt brushed by. "You can tell your prefect I'm not coming in for tutoring. I'm done."

"He won't be happy…" Julian answered casually, turning on his heel.

"Neither am I right now." Kurt walked off, leaving Julian. It occurred to him that this encounter with Julian was completely unprompted, and he turned around to say as much only to find that the smiling Stuart student had vanished into thin air. The hall was empty. Only a little spooked, Kurt turned around—

—and Dwight materialized, nearly giving him a heart-attack. "Hey Kurt!" he said, looking breathless and as rumpled as usual.

Kurt, clutching his chest, glared at him. "What is it, Ambush-Kurt-Day?"

"I need one of your scarves," Dwight said immediately, seemingly unperturbed.

"What?"

"Scarf. Now. Please?"

Kurt gave him an incredulous stare even as he took his Hermes scarf from inside his satchel. "All right, I don't even think I want to know…"

"Thank you, I assure you, this is meant for the betterment of Windsor."

Dwight sounded so disturbingly sure that Kurt narrowed his eyes as he handed it over. "You better not be up to anything too crazy or Charlie's not going to be pleased. I expect to get this back in perfect condition."

"What? Why? You have like five—I know, I gave them to you for Christmas."

"Dwight!"

"All right…fine…" Dwight gingerly took the scarf with two fingers and slipped it into a plastic bag that he carefully put away in his bag.

Kurt looked at him doubtfully. "What are you this time, a CSI?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Please. I'm a hunter, Kurt. This is just what I needed. See you back at Windsor and hopefully my experiment bears fruit."

"And as long as I get that scarf back, Dwight Houston, you won't need forensics to identify your body." Kurt gave him a forced smile.

The sophomore gave him a calculating look, as though trying to find out if he was serious or not. Kurt sighed and shook his head. "Go—go on, get out of here, I have to go to Warblers…" he pushed the younger boy off down the hall and Dwight hurried off.

Kurt headed to Warblers' hall and wasn't very far from his destination when he heard a strange sound. It was someone retching and coughing. Puzzled, he went to the direction of the arches that looked out to the grounds—where he had first been singing to New Directions during his audition day. Why was someone there?

He peered out of the arches and listened. The sound was coming a tall bush near the wall. He went around to it and was startled. "Ms. Medel?"

Sylvia Medel looked up at him, wiping her mouth and looking startled for a moment, turning white. "Oh Kurt…" she breathed, wringing her handkerchief. "You…you gave me a fright there."

"Are you okay?" he asked, a little worried. "Do you need to go to the clinic or something?"

"Oh, no…" Medel shook her head, smiling at him. She still looked nauseated. "It must be the food from the fair I sampled… some boys were asking if it was okay to sell them for the fair…had some of them and…"

"They weren't from Drew Mapleton and Satoru Kogo, were they?" Kurt asked suspiciously. He did hear about them threatening to put their "serum" in food, and all of a sudden he had a bad feeling about the Twins suddenly asking him to make cookies for the fair.

Medel laughed. "I don't think so…" But she was still wobbly and Kurt held her elbow. "Are you sure you don't want to go to the nurse?" he asked.

"Don't be silly, Kurt…" the Warblers' "mother" smiled. She stood steady on her own and headed for the hall. "I'm fine. Besides, practice is in a few minutes and Blaine and Logan will be singing together. And you don't want to miss that, do you?" she beamed and went ahead as Kurt stopped short at her words.

_Yeah…_ he grimaced as he followed her. _Who would want to miss that…?_

* * *

The tension in the room was palpable and Warblers' hall felt like a powder keg. Harvey and Medel couldn't have possibly predicted this level of tension. Everyone in the Hall stared so hard at the performers that it was almost laughable. How Logan and Blaine even managed to set the matter up was incomprehensible. News went around that they had met early that morning, but they had not done any practice. The other members suspected they didn't need to—they had worked together long enough.

But as Logan and Blaine stood across each other in front of the ones not chosen to sing with them, it had to be confessed that no one could possibly imagine what they planned to do. They were looking at each other not angrily, compared to what people expected. In fact they almost seemed to find the situation bitterly amusing. They had an intense glare at each other that had yet to be broken since they were called out front.

They looked like they did preparatory to fencing. With intention to draw blood.

All in good humor, of course.

Medel laughed nervously. "Everyone, relax."

Reed gave her an incredulous look. Both directors were perfectly aware of what was going on and thus the "relax" was ineffective. Harvey remained rigid, standing by his reasons, glowering at the two.

"Don't keep us waiting," he prompted.

"I can't watch," Reed hissed, ducking nearly into Kurt's arm. Kurt sat, hands clutching on music sheets, white knuckled, unable to tear his eyes away.

"It's going to be a train wreck," Wes stared.

"Of epic proportions," David hissed.

The Tweedles, who were among those supposed to back the pair up, looked at them and just looked at each other at the corner of their eyes. They knew what was going to happen, but they probably weren't sure how to take it.

"Don't make me say it again, boys," Harvey remarked, raising an eyebrow.

Blaine, who had not broken the glare that he and Logan had been sharing all this time, glanced at Harvey and then turned to Logan with a smirk. "Fine."

"Good." Logan nodded, matching his gaze.

"What song did they pick?" Kurt whispered to Reed.

"I have no idea…" Reed stared.

"Boys." Harvey prompted.

The music started as the other boys began to sing backup. Kurt, who knew both song lists by heart, heard the first movement of music and immediately indentified the song's beat. He stared agape at the pair in front of him and sank back in horror. Reed took longer on the uptake and didn't realize until Blaine began to sing, smirking at Logan:

_Well you're a real tough cookie with a long history_

_Of breaking little hearts, like the one in me…_

_That's okay—let's see how you do it—_

_Put up your dukes—let's get down to it—_

"Oh my god…" Kurt couldn't tear his eyes away. It was like an accident in the middle of the road. It was watching someone leap off a high dive. It was…

Horrified didn't cover the expression on Wes' face and David looked like he got hit with a lacrosse stick across the face. Sure they were performing well, but the sight of the two of them moving to this music and singing it to each other…

Blaine pointed at Logan, walking almost right up to him.

_Hit me with your best shot!_

_Why don't you hit me with your best shot!_

_Hit me with your best shot!_

_Fire away!_

As Blaine swept away from him, Logan took up the thread looking pissed off but not backing down. He walked to him and circled him like a hawk.

_You come on with your come-ons, you don't fight fair_

_That's O.K., see if I care!_

_Knock me down, it's all in vain_

_I'll get right back on my feet again!_

_Hit me with your best shot!_

The two of them were all but bearing down at each other, their smiles painfully forced and it looked as though they were just looking for which bone to start breaking. Medel stared at them in pure shock and inability to react while Harvey continued to stare stonily.

Kurt sank into his seat, peering at the performance through his fingers. Reed wasn't even looking, he couldn't bear to while Wes and David sat, open mouthed and transfixed, the rest of the Warblers looking completely dumbstruck.

The Twins, at least, watching Blaine and Logan circling each other and singing to each other with so much thinly-veiled contempt, were enjoying themselves immensely.

_Hit me with your best shot!_

_Why don't you hit me with your best shot!_

_Hit me with your best shot!_

_Fire away!_

Kurt was convinced this wasn't happening and he was hallucinating. This couldn't seriously be happening. It was like a dream sequence that you were desperately trying to wake up from and you find yourself just completely lost into it. Yes, they both sounded amazing and they both were very good…but there was something about it—perhaps the expressions and the way that they looked at each other with that challenging glint that said nothing but danger. He had not felt so bad about a single performance since Finn and Rachel's disastrous duet.

When the song ended, there was dead silence in Warblers' hall. No applause, no reaction—save for wide-eyed shock—and no noise, save for the breathless pair in front.

Kurt and Reed glanced at each other as Wes and David leaned back, looking as though they were bracing themselves for impact. Logan narrowed his eyes at Blaine, who returned it.

Harvey looked furious. He was going to explode and everyone could tell that it spelled the death knell for the two performers in front. He rose to his feet with a malevolent air that Kurt was sure that somewhere, Dwight must be going ballistic.

"And what was that?" demanded the male director.

Blaine and Logan looked at him and then dropped their eyes a moment before glaring at each other again. Harvey snapped his fingers loudly—it sounded like an executioner's signal. "I asked a question!"

"I kind of think we did all right," Logan said in a show of defiance as he glanced to the director with green eyes blazing. "We put our own spin on it."

Blaine said nothing, but Harvey's expression darkened. "You think this is a joke? I said we weren't putting pressure on you for this performance, but that doesn't mean you use this hall as your personal battleground! Now I don't know what's with the both of you now, but I think it's about time you fixed this as it's been a _year_ since the two of you last had serious altercations and—"

"A _year_?" snorted one boy from Stuart. "Try a few weeks, Mr. Harvey!"

"Did you hear me address you, Jason?" Harvey glared and the boy silenced. Bailey elbowed him and frowned.

Harvey turned to Blaine and Logan. "Be that as it may, the purpose of this pair was to make what could otherwise be an 'easy' performance into a way to make the both of you grow, but it appears that you both have actually regressed!"

Medel, seeing danger signs, leapt to her feet quickly and clapped her hands. "All right then, everyone!" she said, voice shaky. "That's quite enough excitement for one morning."

"Sylvia—" Harvey began, but she put her hand up and gave him a meaningful stare. He didn't look happy, but he conceded, gesturing to her.

She looked at Blaine and Logan with an anxious smile then at the rest of the Warblers. "How about we, um…we stop for lunch and we'll…have Kurt and Reed's practice later on? So…let's go! Up, everyone up, have your lunch…!"

The Warblers murmured as they got up, looking rather unsettled. The Tweedles came up to Blaine and pulled him away from Logan. He shrugged them off lightly and went to join Wes and David. Logan glared at him and shook his head as he strode to the other Stuarts.

"I don't know what is the matter with those two, they used to be able to tell between performances and personal matters…" Kurt heard Harvey mutter to Medel as the Warblers filed out. Immediately, Kurt felt the need to tell them what was going on—to change the pairs and save everyone grief.

Before he could go to them, however, cell phones of the Windsors went off.

_The moment you can, get to Windsor. Emergency meeting. - Charlie_

* * *

"I will never…ever…be able to hear that song the same way ever again," Kurt muttered, still in shock, in the common room later on, staring down at his phone where he just received a message from Mercedes.

_When is that fair you said you guys were having? –M_

He frowned, answering her with the date, as Reed sitting next to him said, "I don't know what they were trying to do, but I thought Mr. Harvey was ready to throttle them both."

_Bunch of us are going. Meet us there. No questions. –M_

Kurt frowned, confused at this sudden interest. Mercedes, he could imagine going, but weren't the pairs of Glee club spending Valentines in McKinley?

"If Medel hadn't stopped the session when she did, it looked like either Harvey was going to kill them or they would've jumped each other," Evan remarked, blinking.

"It'd been a while since Harvey chewed anyone out, that might've been fun to see…" Ethan blinked as well, nodding. Reed frowned at them both.

Kurt elbowed him. "Heard from Shane yet?"

"No…" Reed sighed. "I sent him a message, but he didn't answer. Maybe he lost his phone?"

Kurt frowned. "What? But Blaine was talking to him just the day befo—" He stopped when he saw the wide-eyed expression on Reed's face. "Nothing. Forget I said anything."

"Wait—he talked to you guys?" Reed turned to him, grabbing his sleeve. "He was on the phone?"

Kurt glanced at him, not quite sure what to say. "Blaine was talking to him before we had that fight, and he seemed his usual self…so I figured he would've called you by now."

Reed let go of his sleeve and sat back, staring at his hands. _Why is he avoiding me…? Did he…change his mind or something? Was it because it was too weird? _Reed swallowed. _Did he…decide to go for someone less…complicated?_

"I can sense distress in your head and whatever you're thinking, it's wrong," Kurt warned, but Reed just brushed him off. Kurt sighed. Valentines was his _least_ favorite occasion for a reason and it was setting in adamantine firmness.

"_Why is this meeting being called…?_" asked the speaker in the common room where the Windsors were slowly gathering. Han did not sound pleased. "_Cha__rlie, __get on with it—I'm missing the Speed Gamers' Castlevania marathon._"

"We're not going to start until all of you crackpots get in here," Charlie retorted from where he stood by the fireplace, arms crossed. "We're having a House meeting and it includes you. Don't make me cut off the internet."

"_Like that stops me…_"

"I will take an axe to your servers, Han, and you know I'll do it too."

A pause. "…_yes, sir, then._"

Dwight had just finished lining the doorways and windowpanes with salt—much to Charlie's chagrin, but if it kept the "hunter" in the room for the meeting, he was willing to take it—when the triad of Blaine, Wes and David finally arrived. Wes looked rumpled from all the work in the fair, David less so, and Blaine remained immaculate as usual.

Kurt saw them come in and immediately averted his eyes, sitting a little closer to Reed on the couch and pretending not to notice. The Twins immediately leapt onto the couch as well, possibly hoping to avoid any more friction. There was more than enough friction in Warblers' hall.

Charlie marked all this but said nothing as Blaine sat on the other end of the couch, Wes sitting on the arm of that end and David leaning on the back. Blaine glanced briefly to Kurt, who didn't turn his eyes to him the way he hadn't all day. Blaine said nothing and turned to Charlie as the last few stragglers came into the Windsor common room right after them. "What's this meeting about?"

"I wanted to talk to all of you about the fair," Charlie said, looking over the assembled boys in various stages of mess considering the classes and the fair preparations. "As you remember, every year, for the fair, we open Dalton's gates and it becomes open to the public so they can enjoy themselves. Along with normal people, we'll have alums and other people coming over so as much as possible, can we try to hold down the crazy? I know that this is technically a contest—"

"Contest?" Kurt asked.

"Windsor, Hanover and Stuart will present how much money they made for the fair with their booths," Charlie answered. "Whichever house makes the most money will receive extra credit in grades and extra curfew hours two weeks following."

"How's the standing?" Kurt raised an eyebrow.

"Surprisingly, Hanover's booths tend to be the most popular," Ethan commented with a smile. "But we'll be challenging that with our Hall of Mirrors."

"We have a booth every year," Evan grinned. "And this time we're pulling out all the stops."

"I don't know, I heard Justin and Spencer were calling in some heavy parental contributions and setting up a small rollercoaster in the football field," grinned Wes.

"Damn it, Hanover!"

"Well _anyway_…" Charlie raised his voice and looked at them. "I want everyone to work together, all right? So far, the year's been a little quiet and we haven't exactly have had the chance to show the rest of the Houses up. I mean come on, a Stuart won Winter Fest."

"But Blaine won the fencing meet," Dwight shot back.

"And that's awesome, but it didn't win us anything except apparently house arrest for the people who started the big party." Charlie glowered as the people involved looked mildly embarrassed. "Anyway. So we'll be in front of a lot of people so while we can pretty much go crazy, let's not go _too_ crazy. For some reason, Ramsey said she was keeping a close eye on us."

He leaned back on the fireplace, arms crossed, a hulk of over six feet suspicious prefect-ness that pulled rank over the rest of Windsor that now leveled his gaze at them. "Something about Mr. Tamerlane seeing people waving a whole lot of nets and breaking things in here for the past week. And I noticed that the windows have been shut too. I know it's cold, guys, but people go _running_ to close a window when it's open and this is getting ridiculous. Anything I should know about?"

Silence.

And then everyone started talking at the same time, all in various explanations.

Wes glanced at him, wondering if it would be a good idea to tell him. And he might have too—but it seemed like the involved party, the notorious little bird, himself, decided to tell Charlie himself. Wes, with wide eyes, watched as the Warbler fluttered down from the ceiling beams and landed on the mantelpiece—right over Charlie's head.

David thought his circulation was getting cut off by the way Wes was suddenly gripping his wrist. "Dude, what the hell…?" Wes said nothing, shaking his head a little and nodding very slightly over Charlie's head. David looked at him incredulously before turning to where he motioned, and froze.

Apart from the incident in Blaine's room, Pavarotti had never alighted so low before, except when he was purposely nearly swooping at people's faces as he flew out of rooms. Pavarotti looked interested at the goings on, especially at Charlie. Maybe he recognized his position of power in Windsor house—or he just thought he was a really tall perch.

Whatever it was, whenever Charlie moved or made a gesture, he would flutter his wings as though making to fly away, but never quite getting totally spooked by the towering prefect. Blaine swallowed as he saw the prize Warbler making his way closer to the prefect.

"Oh my gosh…" Reed whispered under his breath, staring.

"What…?" Kurt asked as his friend tugged on his sleeve and pointed shakily. Kurt looked up. "…oh."

Dwight rose slowly from behind the sofa like a predator, holding a net and eyes trained intently upon the bird even as Charlie had now already begun to talk again and everyone was supposed to be paying attention to whatever it was he was saying.

"…so I want all of you to try—to attempt—to restrain yourselves for the fair, all right?" Charlie crossed his arms, glowering at the group in the common room, who frankly were occupied by a more pressing matter. "Because quite frankly—"

By now no one was looking at him. Wes and David were staring over at the mantelpiece above his head with wide eyes and mouths open. The Tweedles were tensed, gaping, hands suggesting that they were about to pounce like cats. Reed's hands were frantically shaking as he stared, and Dwight very, very carefully raised his net.

"Chaz…" said Wes slowly as he slipped off the arm of the sofa, "…whatever you do…do not…move."

"What?" Charlie stared at them incredulously.

"Do not…move…" David repeated as he very carefully stood, eyes still on the little yellow bird that was literally within inches of Charlie's head.

The prefect frowned. "What are you talking about?"

"Okay, Charlie, on the count of three…" Blaine breathed as he rose, "…if you don't want to be concussed, you will duck. Wes, grab a broom, guard the doors. Everyone else, we grab that bird."

"What?" Charlie stared at them as though they were crazy. "Tell me what's going on right now!"

"Shut up, Your Majesty, shut up or he'll fly away," Evan snapped.

"Who will?" Charlie asked as the bird fluttered its feathers.

"Pavarotti!" Reed gasped.

Blaine carefully stepped forward, "One…two…"

"Three!" Dwight yelled, leaping over the couch and _flying_ at the bird. Charlie yelled and dodged before Dwight slammed into him. The net connected with the mantelpiece but Pavarotti was flying away. The bird fluttered and swooped right at Reed's head, sending the small boy ducking and throwing himself onto the carpet.

The common room exploded. Boys went running back and forth all trying to grab for the little bird that was now swooping over their heads and keeping well out of reach. The furniture overturned as everyone ran to grab something to catch it with. Kurt couldn't see how any of this could manage to catch Pavarotti without maiming him. Other started grabbing material for fair booths from the room, evacuating them out the doors before they got trampled by the mob.

"Where is he?" David demanded, picking up one of the nets that the Windsors now kept nearly everywhere post-Pavarotti's escape.

"He _got free_?" Charlie yelled at them in shock as the yellow bird fluttered around their heads. "_Why did you let him out_?"

"We don't know how he got out!" Blaine exclaimed, ducking swinging nets and lacrosse sticks.

"And that's why everything's on lockdown?" Charlie demanded as he struggled to steady a falling lamp.

"We've been trying to keep him in Windsor for almost two weeks now!" Blaine answered.

"There! Over there!" Reed yelled, pointing to one of the shelves. Just as two Windsors went for him, Pavarotti flew off.

Kurt looked up and saw Pavarotti flying overhead, heading for a window that had been left a smidgen open, possibly by Charlie who wanted the fresh air. It was a small opening, but there was just enough room for the bird to fly through.

"The window!" he shouted.

Blaine ran for it. Kurt grabbed one of the couch cushions and swung it halfheartedly overhead in an attempt to deter Pavarotti from heading to the direction of the window before Blaine could close it. It only partially worked—Pavarotti flew into one of the bookshelves. Kurt's cushion hit one of the side tables and it fell over with a crash.

David dived for the shelves and Pavarotti flew away without even looking alarmed from his preening. He flew right over Dwight's head, the boy yelling as he ducked.

"Damn it, Dwight! Use your net!" Wes howled as he swung his broomstick at Pavarotti, trying to deter him from going out the door. They were going to keep him in the common room if their lives depended on it.

"Watch out!" Charlie gasped.

The broom connected with a vase—it smashed to pieces on the floor, and the pieces eventually got run over by the Twins as Evan leapt up to try and net the little bird as well. He tripped over the chair leg and Ethan followed suit after tripping over _him_.

Blaine slammed the window shut just as Pavarotti nearly went for it. He swung his net at him but Pavarotti just flew away and alighted on the chandelier.

"Oh no!" Reed cried—they couldn't reach him from up there.

Wes jumped forward and poked at the crystal with the broomstick—but it didn't seem to the bother the bird looking down at them—he merely rustled his wings and stood still.

"We've got to scare him off there," David panted.

Dwight picked up a couch pillow and flung it up. It smacked into the chandelier. Pavarotti flew away—and the chandelier made an ominous creak.

"…oh no."

The Windsors scattered as it fell with a crunch onto the coffee table.

"Pavarotti's getting away!" Kurt cried, pointing at the doors, which Wes did not shut when he abandoned his post.

"And we're all so dead!" Charlie said, shock white, staring at the mayhem in the common room. There was debris and broken furniture everywhere—the only furnishings left standing were the ones welded to place or permanent fixtures on the wall. And Pavarotti was still circling overhead, chirping wildly.

"Get him—go, go!" Blaine pushed Dwight forward. Dwight was off running, chasing the bird before it could get towards the doorway, swinging his bat like a baseball player.

Wes got up from where he had tripped, grabbing his broom and swatting upward. He and Dwight collided, both sent sprawling. Pavarotti swooped out of the common room, chirping as he rose upwards to the foyer.

"That's it!" Dwight gasped. He scrambled to get up and grabbed Wes' broom. "Give me that!" And he ran out of the room.

"Dwight, don't crush him!" Reed cried, chasing after him.

"You left your net, idiot!" David yelled as Dwight raced up the staircase, nearly tripping all over himself.

"I don't need a net!" Dwight screamed back. He waved the broom every time Pavarotti tried to fly into the hall, forcing the bird to fly upwards to the ceiling beams.

"Dwight, what are you doing?" Charlie demanded, running into the foyer. Dwight punched the air with the broom a few times, seeming to make sure that the bird was now settled in the ceiling beams overhead and was not going anywhere.

"Just making sure." Dwight smirked with devastating smugness. There was a chirp overhead. Pavarotti sounded rather settled up there. "All right, we can all calm down now."

"Calm down?" Charlie demanded, gesturing around the foyer and the now destroyed common room, the chandelier pieces on the tables and furniture. Debris of fair materials was still all over the place, some of which were ruined and the kitchen, for whatever reason, was smoking. It was like an H-bomb had imploded in Windsor. "You want me to _calm down? _You want me to look at all this pandemonium and you want me to _calm down_?"

"Chaz, you're going to give yourself a heart attack," Reed warned.

"You guys up for more good news?" Wes asked from the windows downstairs.

"Because we can't get enough of good news, right?" Charlie said sarcastically.

"What is it?" Blaine asked, standing next to Kurt.

Wes kept his eyes on the windows. "Howard's headed this way. He'll be here in…maybe three minutes."

Windsor froze in shock. Charlie held himself tall and closed his eyes, taking a deep, calming breath as all the Windsors stared at him for instruction. The Tweedles looked at each other, worried, then back at the immobile senior in the middle of the foyer.

Finally, Charlie opened his eyes with a grim expression. He held out his hand without looking behind him. "Baseball bat."

The Tweedles blinked, picked up one lying on the floor and gave it to him. "Charlie…?" Kurt asked, not liking this already.

Charlie strode into the kitchen. His imperious presence sent Drew and Satoru, who were trying to put out their smoldering experiment, running out, frightened by the giant with the baseball bat. "Charlie?" David repeated in concern, staring at their prefect from outside the kitchen entrance.

"Blaine!" Charlie yelled, raising the bat.

"What?"

"Fire alarm!" And with absolutely no hesitation, Charlie slammed the bat into the mass of equipment and chemicals in the kitchen countertop. Glass smashed to pieces and chemicals slopped onto each other, Bunsen and alcohol burners toppling—and the sizzling sound was all the warning everyone needed.

The explosion that rocked Windsor must have been felt to South and Main and the Windsors went running like mad away from the blast zone, pouring out of the dormitory in a single, howling mass. Blaine threw himself onto the fire alarm and pulled it. And that ringing was what Howard heard when he watched the students of his dormitory running out.

Charlie, who had taken cover just outside the kitchen entrance, now calmly picked up the fire extinguisher by the side of the entryway and the one in the foyer, and tossed them to the shell-shocked Tweedles before walking out of Windsor.

"What the _hell_ is going on here? And _what_ is that godawful smell?" Howard demanded as the students ran out into the grounds in front of Windsor. Charlie Amos strolled out of the dormitory empty handed, brushing his uniform off as though he was merely heading to class, walking straight up to Howard—the very image of self-possession.

"An experiment by Drew and Satoru exploded in the kitchen, sir," he told him, face utterly devoid of expression. "Overexcitement for the Fair, I think. I've evacuated the boys, but some of us have stayed in to put out the fire. I'd stay out here, sir, if I were you, until we put it out, and we're fortunate it was contained in the kitchen. It's not safe to go in there. There's hazardous material. I'm just about to call some professional help to make sure the area is free of toxic stuff."

Howard stared at him. Charlie blinked calmly back at him. "I have it under control. This happens all the time with Drew and Satoru, as you know. Windsor house is completely prepared in these matters."

The astonished Windsors positively _gaped_at their prefect from behind Howard. Howard wasn't sure if he wanted to blow up or just stare at everything Charlie had just said. The senior just looked at him, utterly unruffled. Howard narrowed his eyes at him after a few moments. "And you're _sure_ this is contained in the kitchen? The whole _house_ isn't burning down?"

In a blast of chemical spray, the Tweedles jogged out of Windsor, grinning as they held up their fire extinguishers. "We put it out! It's all still smoky, but we've put everything out! It didn't even reach the gas!"

Charlie turned back to Howard, smiling. "See? I'll be turning off the fire alarm momentarily, we only hit it to make sure everyone was safely evacuated. Can't have anyone getting hurt now."

Howard narrowed his eyes at Charlie, looking suspicious. But Charlie was just smiling, and so were the Tweedles behind him. All the rest of Windsor stared.

Howard considered the prefect, and looked to the boys of Windsor House, all of them accounted for and looking utterly unharmed for the most part, and it included Reed, which was always a good sign. He began to nod slowly. "…all right, then. Well—turn off the alarm before people from the South and Main start sending people out." He looked at Drew and Satoru. "How many times do I have to tell you two, if you want to experiment, do it in controlled areas in the laboratories!"

The two scientists gaped. Charlie bestowed them a withering glare from behind Howard. The two boys began nodding enthusiastically. "Yes, sir!" Drew gasped.

"We totally understand!" Satoru replied, gulping.

"It was just pheromones, for the fair!" Drew immediately explained.

"We just poured too much of some stuff—" Satoru added.

"We had no idea it was going to combust and—

"—didn't think it was even chemically _possible_, but—"

"There wasn't even a lot of substances in there," Charlie added.

At this point, all of Windsor stared talking at the same time, explaining the 'situation' and how no one really thought it was a big deal, utterly confounding their House head.

"All right, quiet!" Howard frowned. "Now you're all lucky that no one was hurt this time. I don't want to hear any more of you setting fire to _anything_ while indoors, even if it _is_ in the kitchen! We banned flambé _years_ ago!"

A pause.

"How about outdoors, though?" Dwight asked after consideration.

"Dwight!" Howard scolded, and the sophomore cringed, muttering, "Just _asking…_"

"You should go, sir," Charlie said helpfully, smiling. "I have Windsor under control, I can take it from here—I'm sure you have far better things to do than our regular spate of crazy accidents."

Howard sighed, shaking his head. "Well, I'm supposed to be meeting the other teachers running the Fair committee in a few minutes…" He turned to Charlie. "I'll call for the cleanup. In the meantime, make a list of everything in there that's been destroyed or damaged and give the list to me. And the rest of you are not to go back into the dorm until Charlie and the guys say it's safe, all right?"

There were murmurs of agreement. Howard glowered at them. "The regular list of scoldings, warnings and threats apply…now go get back to work on the Fair grounds—you can't go into your dorm anyway. Charlie—"

"I've got it, sir," smiled the prefect. Howard cast one last withering glower at the boys and departed.

They all waited until he was out of sight and earshot before they let out their breaths. Charlie sank to the ground—_all_ the way to the ground—until he was lying flat on his back. All the Windsors crowded around him, looking down in amazement.

"Way to go, _Chaz_!" the Tweedles grinned, looking down at him.

"Baseball bat to lab set—that's going down in Windsor history," David grinned.

"I can't believe you just did that, man!" Wes exclaimed.

Charlie just groaned. "I can't either…I feel ill. I haven't felt that scared since the Tweedles dragged Herman Dalton's hammer out of the school vault and tossed it into the fountain last week. That was _close_!"

"Close?" Blaine snorted. "Close was when we got that hammer out of the fountain and back to the vault before daylight! This was—this was _nuts_."

"Only way to cover up one explosion was with bigger one." Charlie sighed, draping his arm over his head.

Kurt smirked down at him. "You have my respect, fearless prefect."

"Well good, because once I get my bearings back enough to get up, I'm going to take the baseball bat, and _hit each and every single one of you—"_

He didn't finish—the Windsors were racing away from him already, scattering all over the place. In spite of warnings, they were headed back to the house, but that was Reed suddenly stopped and said, "Hey!"

"What?" asked Kurt.

Reed whirled around to look at the Tweedles. "…did you guys just leave the door open?"

The twins' eyes widened. All of the conspirators looked at each other, wide-eyed, and then bolted inside to find the prize warbler.

* * *

_Continued in the next episode, **Fallout**: Things reach a boiling point. After one explosion, a couple more seem to be underway. Relationships start getting stretched to breaking point as more secrets get revealed. And it was the day before the fair. And everyone learns that there are consequences to certain actions._


	22. Fallout

_Hi, I'm CP, your author for this fic._

_Part two of the Valentines' Day arc, Fallout. I meant to have this out last night (Last night in the Philippine sense) but I fell asleep. But here it is. I apologize for the delay, and I am grateful, as always, from the very bottom of my heart, to each and every single person who read this fic and continue to do so to this day, as well as the supporters from the various sites: tumblr, livejournal, gleeforums, and the like. I wish I could go meet you when the Dalton readers get together on Glee Live (apparently, some people will be making signs and badges so they could find each other), but alas, I remain in my country, hoping that you all will enjoy yourselves._

_For what it's worth, I had certain plans for this particular episode but my OCs threw me quite a few curveballs that changed the game. And this is where it ended up. I suppose this is what Sue calls a "boiling point."_

_I don't own **Glee**, or Dalton Academy. _

* * *

**Dalton**

**Episode 22 – Fallout**

* * *

_I'm Kurt. And this is Dalton Academy._

_You know those times when you're desperately looking for a way out of a mess..._

_...and things only just seemed to get worse?_

_I thought I had reached that point. I was wrong._

_I'm tired of this run-around. And I'm getting out. _

_I want out **now**._

* * *

"Kurt—Kurt!"

The voice carried over the sound of the many many students in the hall, both boarders and day students, all going in and out of rooms setting up the booths that were inside the building. Outside was no less chaotic—there was still construction going on for the outdoor booths, with everyone going crazy. The Hanovers were holed up in the football field, watching their epic rollercoaster project take form.

But there was no staying in Windsor either, Kurt decided. Everything was smoky and a mess—the other Windsors who decided to stay in the dorm promised to search around to see if Pavarotti was still in the dorm. Han (who had, amazingly, been utterly unruffled by the explosions and fire alarms—"I was in the middle of a boss battle. Please, like I'd actually move.") had also volunteered to look through the cameras and see if the bird was around—if it hadn't been frightened to death by the explosion.

Dwight, on the other hand, was truly confident that the bird was still in the house. No one was sure how to take the reliability of that statement.

And all that time, he and Blaine did not look or speak to one another. He hadn't even looked at Blaine since he walked into the common room. Whatever it was they had, they were having it bad.

The madness was why Kurt had fled the dorms and into the relative sanctity of the halls in South and Main, but it would appear that the madness followed him. He'd know that voice anywhere.

"Kurt." Logan finally reached him after jogging past the other people in the hall. He looked a little concerned. "Finally. You didn't come to Stuart House yesterday for tutoring and Julian told me that you're not going to anymore?"

This. The tutoring. The singing. And him.

All of that.

Kurt set his mouth to a line and looked up at the Stuart prefect, who must not have been expecting his hostile reaction.

"Whoa." Logan stared. Kurt glared and continued walking…and Logan pursued. "Hey—wait. Look—if this was about the duet with Blaine—"

"It's not _just_ about the duet, Logan." Kurt hissed as he walked through the hall, trying to speed up. But Logan's legs were longer and he was likely in better shape—he kept up with him easily. "It's this. You and me, and what we're doing."

"We're walking?" Logan asked in an attempt to make Kurt smile. But this only fanned the coals. Kurt stopped and turned to him, eyes blazing.

"What is it, Logan, really?" Kurt demanded, looking up at him. "I just want to know."

"Know what?"

"I want to know why you sang with Blaine like you wanted to throttle him. I thought I made it clear to you a million times that I'm _dating Blaine_. We're _together. _That was pretty much settled since the New Year party. Do you want me to spell it out for you? Why did you sing like that with him like you were still fighting him—both of you getting worked up like that?"

"Because we _don't like each other,_" Logan snapped, looking annoyed, voice rising. "I thought I made _that_ clear? I may not know everything that's going on with you and your crazy boyfriend, but just because you and Blaine had a fight doesn't mean that you get to take it out on me!"

"I get to take it out on you _because we fight about you_!" Kurt shot back, words echoing to the rafters. He was not going to get yelled at in this hall by Logan Wright and not fight back. "Tell me, Logan—tell me the truth." Kurt looked up at him with blue eyes that were looking strangely misty. "Because I've been singing with you, spending time with you, _talking _to you—did you think, no matter how minute, that I would fall in love with you?"

The entire hallway had to be staring. Logan glanced around at them, a little white in the face, but he wasn't backing down. His heart was pounding in his ears, and hot rage was bubbling up quickly. All the familiar signs. And there was no stopping this time, not when he was without the aid of substance.

"If…I said yes…would you stop doing all those things?" he asked shakily, trying to control himself.

"Oh my god…" Kurt looked like he got hit in the gut. He turned away from him, hand pressed to his face, horror in his face. "He was right…all this time he was right—"

"Right about—"

"That I am an _idiot_ for thinking that I could make you stop!" Kurt screamed angrily. "I thought you said you were going to try? That you were going to try and get better and you understood that all this time, we were going to be just friends! You said it, not me!"

"I said I'd try to that but I didn't say I'd try to stop being in love with you because _I can't_!_" _Logan shot back, not caring if the whole school heard. "And so fine, maybe you _are_ the idiot for thinking _that_ would ever change in me, but when I told you I would take this twisted friendship, I meant it!"

"That's how I had wanted it to _stay_, Logan," Kurt said, looking completely distraught. "I've told you over and over again that I love Blaine—"

"And it hurts me each and every time!" Logan shot back. "You make your point! I get it! You're with Blaine! That's never changed from the very beginning! But can you honestly tell me that it is so wrong for me to selfishly want to be with you? Even for just a little while? Just to be with you so I could make you _look at me_ for a change!"

"To make me—_look_ at you?" Kurt was breathing hard and he glared at him, shaking his head. "I'm done here, Logan. I'm done. I'm going to stay away from you—I'm tired of having to _strain_ between you and Blaine—and I'm not going to be accused of cheating on him, ridiculous as that sounds!"

"Kurt!" Logan grabbed his arm with a grip powerful enough to bruise. Kurt struggled against him, in pain, and Logan bore down at him. "Is that what he said? Is that it? That he thinks you're cheating on him with me? Is that why you're so angry?"

"Logan, you're hurting me—_let me go_!"

"Tell me!" Logan demanded.

Kurt looked up and saw his eyes. That green fire. "You—"

Logan released him immediately, sensing what he was doing. Kurt grasped at his hurt arm, staring at him in shock, and Logan realized that he really had hurt him.

"I didn't mean to—" But when he tried to approach, Kurt shoved him off with surprising strength, and then backed away from him like he was a bomb.

Breathing hard, Kurt narrowed his eyes at him. "No. I've had enough. Of you, and him." He felt hot tears stinging in his eyes. "I thought—I thought I wasn't doing anything wrong."

"You didn't."

"Yes, I did." Kurt's eyes could've set him on fire. "I did when I trusted you to keep distance. And now I've lost _his_ trust." And he turned heel and fled down the hallway.

"Kurt!"

"Don't come near me!" Kurt shouted back before he vanished around the bend.

Logan stood in the middle of the hall, breathing hard, as the students around them murmured mutinously at the spectacle. Derek and Julian, who had been watching in shock, emerged from the hall and walked to Logan. "Are you—" Derek began.

"Where. Is Blaine." Logan panted, eyes blazing and never looking away from the direction Kurt went.

Julian let out his breath and frowned a little, arms over his chest. "Saw him go into the cafeteria with Wes and David."

Logan started walking to that direction immediately. "Wait, Logan—_wait_!" Derek said, trying to grab him back but Logan pushed him off to the wall. Julian watched stonily, eyes never leaving the prefect, letting him storm off.

"What are you doing?" Derek hissed to Julian as he got back up. "He's clearly out of his mind and you go and tell him where Blaine is?"

"If he wants to scream at Blaine, let him." Julian had his arms crossed, eyes dark. "Let him get it out of his system. I'm tired of this. They should end it." Julian made to leave but Derek grabbed the back of his shirt.

"Oh no you don't," he glared at him. "You're going to see this through with me." And he dragged him along to go after Logan.

* * *

Kurt stormed down the halls, heart in his throat. Forget lunch, at this rate he was going to throw up. So many emotions were fighting their way through him that he was going to explode at any given moment and he didn't need any more public spectacles.

He decided to head for the hall early as there was likely no one present there yet. He had to get away from everyone and everything for just a moment, regroup and recollect himself. He didn't even know why he exploded on Logan that way in the hallway—it would never happen again.

He stopped at the doorway when he heard voices.

"…and I am this close to banning personal relations between club members." That was Harvey. Kurt gripped the wood panel of the doorway.

But Medel sounded gentle. "You know it's that, exactly—those relations… they make the raw emotion that we get to hear from them, the leads. The emotion that these boys have fuels their voices—if you ban their relations, they might just get depressed." She smiled. "Expressing oneself through song is always incredibly therapeutic and fulfilling, you know."

"But if Logan and Blaine keep this up…" Harvey sighed, shaking his head. "I told you before, Sylvia. I can't have another rerun of last year."

"You have to admit, in good times, the love songs were cute," Sylvia smirked a little. "I haven't quite seen Blaine so happy before and the way he and Kurt sing to each other…" Kurt blushed at this. Until, that is, Sylvia added, "And you should hear Kurt and Logan sing. There's this…melancholy that's so unusual. You can tell they're really singing from somewhere."

"It's _that_," Harvey said, frowning. "Logan and Blaine are…pulling at Kurt, from what I can tell. And the tension is like a powder keg and honestly, among them—I'm most worried about how Kurt is handling this."

"He's a little more…resilient than he looks," Sylvia said with a smile. "And I'm betting if he gets fed up, he'll burst out at them and he'll have every right to be."

Kurt smiled at this. Harvey just shook his head and sighed. "For all their sakes, I hope they get it together. For Regionals." He walked over to one of the shelves and Kurt ducked back for a moment to make sure he wasn't seen. When he peered in again, he saw Harvey holding out a sheaf of music sheets to Medel.

But there was a large red, long-stemmed rose on top of the sheaf. Kurt's eyes widened to the limit.

Medel looked embarrassed but she took it. "Greg…"

"All this Valentines on campus…I figured I'd get you something since the pile of gifts from your student admirers are rising."

Medel stood with a smile and leaned over to kiss him. Harvey held her arms as he kissed her back. Kurt stared, openmouthed. Harvey? And Medel? They had never even shown the Warblers the slightest hint of this. _No one_ had seen the slightest hint of this.

There was a soft gasp behind him and Kurt whirled around and saw Reed standing there, wide-eyed and mouth open in utter shock, just like him. He looked like he was going to say something, but Kurt clapped a hand over his mouth and pulled him to the side. "Shh!"

Reed mumbled something behind Kurt's hand, but Harvey was talking again. He had his arms around Medel's waist, and she was looking up at him with a smile. "I suppose we both will be very busy for the fair," he said. "Shall I take you to an early Valentines' dinner later?"

"You take people out to dinner now?" Medel raised an eyebrow. "Because we've always just eaten in the cafeteria for dinners during school days."

Kurt nearly snorted. He didn't take Mr. Harvey for a cheap date. But the male director just laughed a little. "I promise it'll be somewhere nice." He leaned forward and kissed her again.

Kurt slowly released Reed and then looked at him with a grin. "Can you believe this?"

"No, I honestly can't," Reed blinked, stunned at the pair.

"Why not?" asked Kurt, smiling at the two directors. "I would've thought someone might've speculated. And they do make a pretty couple."

Reed gave Kurt a funny look. "Kurt… Mr. Harvey's married. And Ms. Medel has a fiancé."

Kurt lost his smile instantly. "_What_?"

"Shh!"

Kurt turned back to the two directors, staring in shock. _Oh my god, it's like Mr. Schuester all over again. Is there no choir director in Ohio able to stay married __**quietly**__?_

"Are you sure…that this is a good idea, doing this here in the hall?" Medel suddenly asked, pulling away from his embrace. "The boys could walk in any minute…" she laughed, a little embarrassed, tucking a lock of her white-blond hair behind her ear.

Mr. Harvey glanced to the door—Kurt grabbed Reed to the side just in time—and then looked back at her and smiled a little. "No one's around."

"It's still…a little risky, you know." Medel looked uncomfortable. "You…this isn't really right, Greg, you know that."

Mr. Harvey looked intently at her. "I love you." He smiled faintly again, like someone who was sad, looking at something he couldn't really have. "…I love you, Sylvia."

Medel ducked her head, flushing a little, but at the same time she looked a little afraid. A long pause. A soft shivering sigh. "…I…I have something to tell you."

"Hopefully it's that you love me too," Harvey smiled a little bit more.

Medel stared at him for a moment, his form leaning against the piano casually, smiling at her. She clutched the rose she held, seemed to take a deep breath, swallowed…and stopped completely. She smiled. "…then, I love you too."

Harvey looked a little surprised, but he laughed. He moved towards her and gave her a kiss, which she returned.

Kurt frowned. _Why did she stop? Was she trying to break up with him?_

"Maybe she wants to break up," Reed whispered, echoing Kurt's thoughts.

"I don't know, she seems to enjoy being with him…" And then a click came into Kurt's face as all the pieces fell into place in his head. His eyes widened again, he grabbed Reed and pulled him away from the doorway and into the hall. "Kurt!" Reed hissed as his friend ran to the archways, clutching his chest like he was having a heart attack. "What is it?"

"I think I know what she was going to say," Kurt breathed, staring at him.

Reed stared back. "Well…? What?"

Kurt looked around, saw the coast was clear, and looked intently at Reed. "This morning…this morning, I saw Medel outside by the bushes. She looked nauseous, and she was throwing up."

Reed blinked, confused. "What does that have to—" He stopped and took on an expression of someone who got hit by a sledgehammer. "Oh…!"

"Yes."

"_Oh—"_

"_Yes!"_

"_Oh holy Prada—"_

"Uh-huh!" Kurt, eyes wide, was nodding wildly.

"She's _pregnant_?" Reed hissed in terror.

* * *

The way Wes and David were glowering at him was unsettling. They were in the cafeteria inhaling their lunches before Warbler practice.

Blaine glowered back at his two friends. "We just lost the prize warbler. Can we focus on that?"

"Kurt is going to duet with Reed when we get back for the Warblers' meeting," Wes told him. "And fine, they're cute, but they're not the kind of "romantic" duet for Valentines' day. And _you_ just had a duet with Logan, and while you were both as good as you usually were, the I'm-going-to-strangle-you aura you both had is liable to make Medel and Harvey change their minds and swap you all out."

"Either of two things will happen then," David continued, making sure that Blaine was not getting away from the subject. "You end up with Kurt, and with the fight you just had, there will be grade-A _awkward_ that will happen. At this rate, you're never going to be able to sing with each other properly, and then Harvey will really kill you guys."

"I think if we had to, we'd be able to get the personal stuff out of this," Blaine muttered.

"Seriously, Blaine?" Wes glared. "You and Logan weren't able to bring it out of the picture just an hour earlier—much less you and Kurt!"

"Second option: Kurt gets swapped out and ends up with Logan," David stated bluntly. "And from what the Twins told us Medel said, they were apparently _fantastic _together. And again—you lose. Both of you."

The two now stepped in front of Blaine, blocking his way. Blaine sighed and stopped. Wes said, "So it's either the two of you work this out, stat, or we're going to get even more convoluted than we already are."

"Look, we're not saying either one of you was right or wrong," said David, frowning at Blaine. "We're just saying that you could act like a real couple and talk this out."

"I spent the whole night wondering how that was even going to _go_," Blaine answered with a sigh, walking around David and resuming pace. "I thought it all out and I still don't know what to say."

"'I'm sorry for screaming at you' is a good start, I hear," Wes commented.

"Very funny. But Kurt has been avoiding me all morning. Even if I wanted to talk to him—"

"Whoa whoa," David frowned. "_Even if you wanted to_? So you _don't_ want to?"

"I'm…still a little angry, maybe, yeah!" Blaine glared. "He's seen what Logan's like first hand. I've told him everything and he still—"

"Everything?" Wes now leveled his gaze at him. "_Everything_?"

Blaine stared at Wes for a moment, and then glared. Wes looked satisfied and leaned back. "That's what I thought."

The cafeteria doors burst open, knocking into some day students. But the wrath that filled the air was palpable and everyone looked up. Logan was crossing the room and the students moved out of his way—the three Windsors saw it too late.

Logan grabbed Blaine by the back of the jacket and pulled him up to him. "What the _hell_ did you do to Kurt?" he demanded.

"Hey!" Wes shoved Logan off Blaine but Logan pushed Wes back, knocking him into David.

"Are you out of your mind?" Blaine yelled at him, aghast.

"What the hell did you do to Kurt?" Logan demanded again, grabbing him by the shirt.

"_Do_ to him_? _I didn't do anything to him!" Blaine shot back as he tore away from him.

"You're a moron, Blaine!" Logan snarled, hands clawing the air in exasperation. "He's practically three feet away from me all the time we were with each other! My _god_, I knew you were slow, but I didn't think you were an idiot! Don't you get it? _Yes_, while _I _happen to be a complete asshole, and yes, given the chance I would take Kurt from you in a hot second, but Kurt has never done anything _remotely_ worthy of whatever you accused him of!"

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"You told him he was _cheating_ on you? Are you _insane_?"

"I never told him that!" Blaine shot back, hands turning cold. "I only said that he may have been leading _you_ and your delusions on! And I'm right, aren't I? You're just waiting for the chance, making him think it was all okay and harmless!"

"_So what if I am_?"

"Hey, back off, Logan," David began, but Logan's rage seemed to give him strength. He hurled David back. "Stay out of this!" He turned back to Blaine, who narrowed his eyes at him. "I knew it. I knew that you just couldn't—"

"You know what, that's it." Logan towered over him furiously. "Kurt may have spent time with me with or without your knowledge but leading me on was never on the table. He keeps talking about how fucking perfect you are, and _I'm _the one with delusions of being able to steal him away you. It's not his fault if _I'm_ the one hallucinating at having a chance when _clearly_ there was none."

The last words dripped in spite. Wes wanted to steal into the conversation but it couldn't be done. There was just so much anger in it that it was only a matter of time…

Blaine swallowed, but held Logan's gaze.

"I swear, Blaine, if you'd seen the _look_ on his face!" Logan glared. "Now you listen to me. You had something good, and I don't care if he proceeds to hate me, but I will _not_ let you hurt him that way twice."

"Because you know, you've _never_ hurt anyone before," Blaine said, voice dangerously soft. "Thank you, Logan, for openly becoming the hypocrite that you are—_you're the reason for all of this_! Because you just don't know when to _stop! _You always have_ to get what you want _and wreck_ everyone in the way!_"

Logan slugged him. The cafeteria exploded into action just as Blaine hit Logan back, sending the taller boy into the table. David and Wes threw themselves into the fray and Derek and Julian came bursting in. As it was, the four of them could barely hold both boys back. When Logan drew back his fist, he knocked his elbow into Julian and the actor fell—he shoved Derek off just as David's grip on Blaine's jacket slipped and Blaine broke free.

The cafeteria was in chaos. Kurt and Reed ran in, hearing the commotion, but past them bounded two golden blurs and they saw the Tweedles were pushing through the crowd.

Blaine threw himself at him, throwing him backward—Logan lost his bearing and hit a table, the boys on it evacuating. But Logan got up and swung at Blaine, hitting him right at the jaw and Blaine fell. Suddenly Derek was grabbing his arm again. Blaine was up and he lunged at Logan, all propriety gone and his eyes blazing. Blaine had completely lost it.

"Hey! Stop it!" The Tweedles dived between both boys—Evan pushing Blaine back, Ethan holding Logan back. "Stop it!"

"Let me go, Ethan!" Logan snarled.

"Move!" Blaine glared at Evan, but the taller boy held him down. "Let me go—he's had this coming!"

"Well so do you!" Logan roared.

"This coming from _you_?" Blaine shouted back.

"Blaine, stop it or you'll get suspended!" Evan snapped.

"Well tell _him_ that—!"

"Don't even try to answer back, man," Ethan glowered at Logan, who looked infuriated.

"_What the __**bloody hell**__ is going on in here_?"

Everyone looked up as Charlie and Justin shoved through the crowd, both looking livid with fury. The students gave way to the two prefects. Charlie shoved past Logan, glaring malevolently at him before turning to Blaine. "What the hell is wrong with you? Move!" Charlie pushed Evan back and grabbed Blaine by the arm.

"We've had it up to here with the both of you!" Justin said, looking uncharacteristically angry. "Especially you!" He turned to Logan with blazing eyes. "You're a bloody _prefect_ for godssakes! You're a mess!"

"And so are you," Charlie snarled at Blaine.

"What—_Charlie!_" Blaine stared at him.

"No—we're not listening to this anymore!" Charlie snapped. "I don't give a rat's ass who started it." He nodded to Justin. "We're taking you both to Ramsey. _Now_."

"_Charlie_!" Reed gasped.

"They want to fight, they can fight in there!" Justin snarled. He grabbed Logan by the arm, but Logan shrugged him off angrily. Justin's eyes glinted. He grabbed Logan by the wrist and twisted it upward. Logan howled in pain. "Don't make me, Logan. I swear to you, do _not_."

Charlie jabbed a finger to Blaine's chest. "And you. I expected a whole lot more from you, Blaine."

Blaine was breathing hard—he looked completely rumpled, like Logan was—but he was calming down. He didn't struggle when Charlie took his arm and pulled him along.

The Tweedles made to follow, but Charlie glared at them in warning, and they stopped in their tracks. They looked angry, but said nothing. They looked at Blaine and Logan and just shook their heads.

As the crowd made way, Logan and Blaine saw Kurt standing with Reed, staring at them in shock.

"Good timing." Charlie glowered. "You're coming with us, Kurt."

"_What_?" Both Logan and Blaine exclaimed.

"Why?" Kurt stared.

"He's not involved!" Blaine protested.

"Yes he is, and you damn well know it." Justin nodded to Kurt. "Kurt. Ramsey's office. Don't think we didn't hear about that row in the hall with Logan. It's why we came in the first place."

Blaine looked at Logan in surprise, but Logan just looked more pissed off than ever—but more with himself. Kurt swallowed but made no protest. He handed his bag to Wes. The whole group departed the cafeteria amidst murmurs.

* * *

While outside, students jostled by the door to overhear, the inside of Dean Ramsey's office was silent as a tomb. Blaine, Logan and Kurt sat next to each other, facing her desk. Behind them stood Charlie, Justin, Howard, Murdoch—and Harvey and Medel.

The story had been a brief one, but thankfully it excluded most of the personal things that nobody was prepared to have aired out to the Dean of Discipline.

Ramsey had listened to all of it in silence, and was now contemplating, hands folded together. Finally, after a long pause, she looked at the three. "I suppose that everything that has to be said, has already been said."

The three didn't look at her. She nodded slowly. "Do you _have_ anything to add, Mr. Anderson? Mr. Wright? And Mr. Hummel?"

Dead silence.

"Are you sure? Because you seemed to be _shouting_ your opinions quite loudly earlier."

Blaine closed his eyes tightly in a wince. But Logan was defiantly glaring at the wall. Kurt pressed his fingers to his temples.

"All of you have behaved against proper conduct in this campus." Ramsey looked them all over. "While it's true that this isn't our first row and it won't be the last, I should think that two of you would've at least learned from past experiences. Hm? Blaine? Logan? We meet again here in the same circumstances."

_The fight last year… _Kurt winced. _Someone got expelled…_

"What do I have to do to get the both of you to stop wrecking each other?" Ramsey asked. "Tell me, because it really eludes me."

"Dean Ramsey…" Harvey spoke, shaking his head. "This matter is… I know it's serious. But I'm asking you on behalf of my group to not expel Blaine and Logan and not to suspend Kurt."

Kurt blanched. He was going to get suspended for yelling in the hall? Burt was going to kill him!

"While yelling in the hall doesn't actually merit instant suspension, why should I not do that, Mr. Harvey?" Ramsey leaned back, questioningly. "After all, I've already expelled Logan once. And Blaine no longer has the self-defense card to play."

"What do you mean?" House Head Howard frowned. "Witnesses said that Logan threw the first punch!"

"And Blaine punched _back_, and _kept_ attacking even after Logan was being pulled back," House Head Murdoch answered him coldly. "If anything, Blaine should have been suspended back then as well since he fought quite violently back!"

"Excuse me, but I seem to be the only one with the power to suspend _or _expel anyone here, so I'll be making that decision!" Ramsey frowned at the two teachers.

Kurt sank his head into his hands. Medel looked at Harvey. Harvey turned back to Ramsey. "Dean Ramsey. Please. You can't do this to them now. Blaine's already a junior. He'll be a senior next year and he'll graduate. And he's one of our best soloists. Goes the same for Logan. We're going to Regionals for the first time in years. We can't lose either one."

"Blatant disregard for proper sanction just because they've got pipes on them?" Murdoch asked, frowning at Harvey.

"Don't start with me, Bradley, you were part of the ones who did the work to get Logan back into school after he was kicked out—"

"It was at the request of US Senator John Logan Wright, Jr., Greg, and I did it because I found it unfair that one student should be expelled when the other gets off scott free!"

"Scott free?" Howard demanded.

"Enough!" Ramsey barked and the group silenced. Charlie and Justin looked at each other. So the teachers had their own squabbles. Good to know.

Ramsey looked as though she was considering carefully, but not what the teachers said. She was considering how the three boys sat. The three looked uncomfortable and apprehensive about the situation, but not with each other. Finally, she leaned forward. "If you boys have _anything_ to say, say it now."

There was silence.

Finally:

"…I threw the first punch. I provoked Blaine."

Everyone looked in surprise at Logan. He wasn't looking at Ramsey and was drumming his nails on the arm of the chair. He glanced down for a moment with a sigh. "I got angry…and I guess everyone knows my situation when I get angry. And I couldn't stop myself when I…when I confronted him and he said certain things to me."

"You realize that only proves that Blaine _did_ trigger the fight with whatever he said," Ramsey said carefully.

"No. He didn't." Everyone looked at Kurt. He swallowed and looked at Ramsey. "Logan got mad…because I was yelling at him in the hall. I…pretty much got him started."

"But that was…because…" Blaine immediately said, looking at Ramsey as everyone now turned to him, "Because I accused Kurt of something. Something I…may or may not have jumped to conclusions on. That was…that was the fight we had that Charlie mentioned earlier."

Silence. The teachers stared at the three boys.

Ramsey considered them all. "So you're saying…that because Blaine and Kurt fought, Kurt fought with Logan who then fought Blaine."

There was an awkward nod from each.

"Well that's quite a bit of fighting, isn't it." Ramsey sat up and let out her breath, taking off her glasses to polish them a moment. "Look, boys. You have _got_ to learn how to hold yourselves back. This behavior is unbecoming to you, your houses, your families, and the school in general. But why do I have to tell you this? Two of you have been prefects and Hummel here usually has good behavior. You all are presumably intelligent _and_ responsible enough know that this—for lack of a better word—_ridiculous._"

She put them on again, and considered them. "But the fact that you attempt to take the fall for each other…is very _mildly_ impressive."

Logan chewed his lip but said nothing, leaning back. Kurt glanced at Blaine. He met his eyes. They both turned away.

"So what'll it be, Liz?" asked Medel asked softly.

Ramsey looked at them, raised an eyebrow, and was terribly frank, more so than she usually was when students were around. "The truth? Well. If I expel Wright and Anderson, we lose two leads. At best I can give Hummel detention for the fight in the hall—the advantage of so far having a clean slate… And if Wright is expelled _again_, I'll have to hear from Senator Wright again and that is not one meeting I relish."

"Technically, I doubt my father would care this time…" Logan muttered to himself.

"I think my father will kill me." Kurt sighed.

"I think it's technically impossible to disown me twice, but my dad might set the precedent," Blaine muttered.

Ramsey sighed. "And the Warblers…need to go to Regionals. Does wonders for Alumni donations."

The teachers looked at each other.

Ramsey sat up and turned to the boys. "You're all stripped of your privileges for the Fair, for starters." Kurt looked up rapidly. "Yes, that's right. And I don't want any of you mounting that stage. None of you will be singing. You are on errand-duty all over the fair _and _Parents' Night. You'll work your pretty heads off while your schoolmates enjoy themselves."

Ramsey sighed. "Consider that community service. I won't be suspending any of you. I will, however, kick the whole lot of you out in a heartbeat, if this happens again. And no matter what your parents say, I will not take you back."

The three boys stared.

"Does…Logan get to stay prefect of Stuart House?" Kurt asked quietly.

"I'd strip him of that too, but the prefects are chosen by the students of the House, and teachers are hands off on the matter." Ramsey gave Logan a tight smile, however. "But if, after that disgraceful act, your dorm chooses to strip you of the title, it'll be to their discretion."

Logan looked as though he didn't want the title at all. Blaine just rolled his eyes. The Stuarts wouldn't take Logan off "prefect" duty. They were all too wrapped up in academics and their own insane extra-curriculars to add the prefect's job on. And Logan was the most highly-connected person in Stuart—they need his backing to cover up their clashes with Windsors.

"Now get out of my office. All three of you." Ramsey nodded to the prefects. Charlie and Justin looked at each other and led the other three boys out. As the door closed behind them, the teachers turned back to Ramsey.

"What—that's it?" Murdoch asked, frowning.

"Yes."

"Not that I'm not glad to have my students stay, but—that easy?" Howard frowned.

"Something happened this year that didn't happen last year." Ramsey fixed the papers on her desk.

"What?" Medel asked.

Ramsey smiled at them briefly. "As I said, they owned up to it and took the fall for each other. I found it mildly impressive. Considering that it took a year for Logan and Blaine to get it to work, and Kurt's presence to trigger it. Good progress. Would be a shame to ruin them now."

* * *

"You got lucky, all three of you," Harvey glared at the three boys outside the hall, where Warblers had gathered anxiously, awaiting the verdict. "I'm not sure what Ramsey was on about, but Blaine, Logan, you'd be expelled in a hot _second_ if it was anyone else. And Kurt. You're cutting it close."

They nodded. Harvey glared. "I can't ban you for Regionals, that would ruin the point. But you're not singing for the Fair, and you're _also_ not signing on Parents' Night. You sit, and watch your group perform. You will be audience."

Kurt winced. Harvey looked up, face solemn. "Three leads are gone. Evan, Ethan. You'll take their spots. Reed, you'll take the stage solo."

While the Tweedles immediately perked up, Reed blanched. Harvey stared hard at the three boys. "To practice, the rest of you. We're going on the stage already set up on the grounds. You three—there's no point in you going. So get to fair duty. I'll have the prefects keep an eye on you." He looked at Charlie and Justin, who acknowledged the instruction with a nod, and Harvey led the Warblers off, most of them looking in varying degrees of disappointment and sympathy to the three boys left behind.

"I'll handle these two chuckleheads, Hanover." Charlie told Justin as he glared at Logan, but he nodded somberly to Blaine, pressing a hand to his back to move him off. Justin took Kurt under his wing and led him off. But he could tell that Kurt was hesitating.

As Justin led him off, Kurt glanced back to where Blaine and Logan stood. Blaine was staring after him, and Kurt felt a little stung by the expression in his eyes and turned away. In spite of himself, he leaned against Justin. The Hanover prefect, who had his arm around his shoulders, sensed this and looked up. "Are you all right?"

Kurt felt tears stinging his eyes and he pressed his lips together into a firm, determined line. "…I'm fine." His voice cracked just slightly.

Justin sighed, decided not to point it out and patted his shoulder. He carefully led him out of the hallway.

Blaine watched Justin and Kurt leave, standing still and looking a little lost. Logan watched him stand there, and just lowered his eyes and shook his head. Blaine turned to Logan, and said after a moment, "Why'd you tell Ramsey that you threw the first punch?"

"Because I did." Logan answered, his green eyes looking greener than ever as he stared hard at him.

Charlie didn't look thrilled, but he stepped back for a moment and let them talk.

Logan lowered his gaze for a moment and said, "…and if you got expelled… Your dad would've gone ballistic." He sighed, glancing at Charlie a moment before adding to Blaine, "…and…there'd be no living with Kurt."

"Why do you care so much about him anyway…? You—you were never like this." Blaine looked confused and frustrated. "Ever. You weren't like this with me, or with—"

"Why are you asking me that question?" Logan answered, looking a little incredulous. "…you of all people would know what I see in him. …all the same things you do."

"What I _meant_…was what made him different." Blaine looked up at him. "From…before."

Logan stared at Blaine a moment, then turned to where Kurt vanished. After a while, he sighed. "…when I find out, I'll let you know." Logan looked at him. "…then you can knock it out of me." He sighed deeply. "…I'm so tired of being pushed back by him."

_I'm so…ready…to give up. So show me how…_

Blaine didn't answer, and for a minute, he thought he knew what Logan was thinking. Charlie laid his hand on Blaine's back and pushed him forward. "Let's go. I'm sure the guys back at Windsor will have something for you to do."

"I know you're supposed to keep an eye on me, Amos, but do you mind if I go back to Stuart and tell them what the hell just happened?" Logan asked. "So they can strip me of my title or…whatever it is they'll do? Because I think I still have explaining to do."

"Do what you have to, Stuart," Charlie eyed him somewhat coldly, but not entirely hostile. Logan was already walking away. "Nice of you to do something responsible for a change."

"Chaz…" Blaine gave him a look. "Give it a rest."

"This from you…?"

Blaine watched Logan go and just lowered his eyes. The truth was that he and Logan were alike in more ways than they would like, and that no matter what they did, they were connected and it would stay that way. No matter how hard they'd try to rub off that fact with words and actions and wrath, it was an indelible mark in their skin.

At best, they had to learn to live with that, and each other.

Charlie looked at Blaine's expression and said, "Hey. Chill out."

"How? Kurt and I are fighting, and I was proven wrong by my vicious ex boyfriend, who I'm starting to see I actually have things in common with. Kurt probably hates me right now."

"No, he doesn't." Charlie paused. "Hey on the upside…it can only get better from here."

* * *

Logan left the Stuart common room with dignity intact.

The Stuarts were, of course, not pleased about the incident in the cafeteria, and they had listened to the events that Logan said somewhat coldly, with very little reaction. He told them point blank about purposely bypassing his medication to be able to sing properly for the duel, the fight with Kurt (which they all already knew about) and the fight with Blaine (which they all also knew about) and Ramsey's decision (which was the only thing they didn't know about). Logan left them with the option to terminate his term as prefect, but didn't stay to listen to them talk about it.

He fled Stuart House, ignoring the looks that Derek and Julian gave him. He had to get out of that House, of the fact that Cupid seemed to have thrown up all over Dalton grounds with the sickening amount of paper hearts and Valentines décor all over the place, and he all but ran into South and Main. He didn't stop until he got to Warblers' Hall—where peace reigned the instant he shut the doors against the outside.

There was no décor in the hall, no light save for the glow of sunlight from the large windows. The piano sat untouched. All the Warblers were off on the stage on the grounds, so he was alone.

Just like the day he first met Kurt formally.

Logan took a deep breath of the empty air, wondering why Warblers' Hall always made everything different for him. His life kept taking a different turn because of something that happened in this hall, and maybe that was why he ran to it.

He was dying for some change in that silence.

He moved to the instrument racks, to the piano, and all the things that made music when played upon. At least they had purpose. He was still looking for his. He closed his eyes and tried to focus.

Everything had gone wrong. And now he'd lost Kurt just when things were starting to get better. Or maybe…he never really had him to begin with. He was, and always had been, in love with Blaine. It was his own hallucinations, imagining that maybe in some distant way, Kurt could love him. And maybe he did…just not the way Logan wanted him to.

He hadn't listened to anyone when they tried to warn him. He didn't listen to himself when he wanted himself to stop. It was too late to stop. He'd gone too far in.

And now everything was ruined.

_I need to know if you were real_

_'Cause I've been known to get it wrong_

_When the memory comes_

_I'll say I'm always in the dark_

_You got me now…_

He smiled bitterly to himself as he sang. It was all a run around. It always had been. He went after things he liked, he had to have them no matter what—and when they failed him, he ruined them.

Intentionally, unintentionally.

He saw the look Kurt gave Blaine before he left with Justin. He wondered how it must've felt for Blaine, because to Logan it felt like everything smashed to pieces.

Was it worth seeing that?

_I want to give you back_

_I want to give you back_

_Somewhere out of here_

_I want to give you… _

_I want to give you… _

_I want to give you back…_

He looked out the windows, where students worked busily outdoors. To his surprise, he saw Kurt. He was carrying a tin of red paint, and Wes was with him, painting the jailbooth with him. He could see Wes trying to talk to him, get a smile out of him, but Kurt only smiled so faintly back. He painted the booth in silence.

Logan shook his head with a bitter smile. Who was he kidding…? This really _was_ all his doing. He had wanted to break Kurt and Blaine apart, and he had gotten exactly what he wanted.

That person reflected slightly in the glass. He couldn't recognize him. He hadn't been able to for a long time. Imposed against the sight of Kurt outside, it was worse than ever.

_I can't remember how it went_

_You looked like everything I wanted_

_And as you came along_

_Slowly everything began to change_

_I got you now…_

_I want to give you back…_

_I want to give you back…_

_Somewhere out of here…_

He turned from the window, buried his head in his hands. That stupid metaphor those twins used all the time. Alice in Wonderland. That was where he'd been. Dreaming. All this time.

It was time to wake up. To wake up before it was all too late. Before everything became so much worse. Because way back then, he didn't care who he hurt as long as he got his way. But he gave a damn now. The shrinks might have said that he was getting "better", but they failed to tell him what it would cost to let go. Some people liked living in a lie.

Because reality cut too deep.

_That's enough_

_Just talking about it_

_I don't mind _

_I don't mind no I_

_Laugh enough_

_Just dreaming about it…_

Logan glanced to the window, eyes misting. Somewhere, outside, he had shattered the boy he wanted. And it just wasn't worth it.

It was time to wake up.

_I need to know if you were real_

_I'd hate to think that I'd been fooled again_

_And as the vision fades_

_I'll say I was blinded by your eyes_

_I felt them burn…_

He closed his eyes, lifting his head to the ceiling. And he let the tears fall for the first time in a long while.

* * *

Derek watched Logan from the doorway. Logan's back was turned, he didn't know he was there. He and Julian had gone looking for him, and Julian guessed correctly that he would be in the Hall. He was so engrossed with whatever he was thinking of that he didn't notice them open the door a fraction.

"What do you think is on his mind right now…?" he murmured.

Julian, leaning on the other side of the door, blinked slowly as he watched Logan. Julian's brown eyes were lit by sunlight and looking intense. Every other part of him was slighted by the sunbeams from the great windows of the hallway, so it looked as though only his eyes were present.

"Does it matter…?" Julian asked after letting out an endless breath. Empty. "He doesn't care what _we_ think. He never has." He straightened up almost languorously, thumbs hooked to the pockets of his pants. His eyes were the last part of him to turn away from Logan, and he walked off into the hallway.

Derek tore his eyes away from Logan and looked at Julian with narrowed eyes. He gave Logan a last glance, closed the door silently and then followed after Julian.

"You know, I'm getting really tired of this Julian!" he called to him, irritated, the moment they found an empty corridor.

"Then leave it alone…" the actor responded, turning heel just a moment to give him a catty smile, and then he turned back as he continued to stroll down the corridor.

Derek felt himself grow a little angry. "So—so what? You're just going to plaster on a smile and disappear again? You're running away again?"

Julian stopped at the last words, but he didn't turn to look at Derek. "…and what would you know?"

"Plenty." Derek glared. "I'm not an idiot. And I'm not blind. I know that every time this would happen, you would run. Off to a shoot, a movie, an interview—disappear for weeks."

"Incidentally, did I tell you I accepted that offer?" Julian said, turning to him with a smirk, but his eyes remained cold and guarded. "That movie I told you about. Should get me out of school for a month or so."

"You said you weren't going to take it. And that stalker of yours was threatening you against taking on that role!"

"My stalker is my problem," Julian answered coolly. "Whoever it is just doesn't want to see me in a role where I get to marry someone else. Talk about obsession. Nothing I can't handle." He was going to leave again, but Derek growled impatiently and cut to the quick—

"Julian, you have to stop running every time you see Logan falling for someone else."

That stopped the actor cold.

Derek smirked a little, triumphant. He was right. He was right all along. "Come on, Julian. No witty comeback? You left when Blaine came into his life, you came back when he was done. You left _again_ the second time he went for someone else. And you came back now that you thought it was quiet. And now that there's Kurt in the picture…"

"Are you going to just keep rattling on?" Julian finally turned to him, eyes glinting. "Tell the whole school already!"

Derek smirked at him, triumph in his eyes. "Do I even have to? You may be an award-winning actor or whatever, but you really _really suck_ when it comes to pretending like you don't give a crap. Seriously."

Julian came striding back at him so intently that Derek lowered his arms as though to prepare for a swing that might come his way. But Julian only looked angry.

"You know what, Derek—you should really stop unloading the responsibility on me. You talk a big game as his friend but you—"

"Oh no." Derek glared. "You're not going to change the subject. You are _not_. You're not running away this time, Julian. It's been three damn years of you just _staring _and I refuse to stand by any more of this crap that you and Logan keep pulling out."

"His and my crap—separate things, by the way."

"Whatever."

Julian's sneer was painful. "You just don't get it. Nothing is ever going to come out of it. If he had the slightest interest, he would've done something. You and I know him well enough to know that."

"Maybe it would _help_ if you weren't such an ass around him all the time! You keep up scathing talk, insult him and you tell him you hate him—all to cover yourself up against him! That, and you tell everyone that you're _straight_!" Derek looked exasperated. "Of course he wouldn't think anything of you!"

Julian rolled his eyes. "Maybe it's my defense mechanism. You fail to answer my question. Who. Gives. A Rat's. Ass. Seriously. Because _he_ certainly doesn't."

"He might if you _tried_."

"What would I get out of it? _Nothing._" Julian looked exasperated. "I tried both ways—I tried getting his attention, and then I tried to forget, went and dated girls and even risked it with some guys…" He groaned at the disbelieving expression of shock in Derek's face. "His eyes look past me like I'm not even there. It's happened three times! Passed up for someone better. All the time. I think it says something about the pointlessness, don't you?"

"I think it's saying man the hell up and make a move." Derek glared.

"Oh you are just a piece of work, aren't you—" Julian turned again and stared walking.

Derek went after him and grabbed his arm. "Is this why you've been leading Hummel to him, Julian? Why you've been "helping" him by giving him opportunities? It was you who led Kurt to him during practice with Medel. It was you who talk to Kurt in the hall. You're doing all this for him."

"I am." Julian smirked, painfully. "Because I can. For him. Sickening as it is to watch. And that's why I'm leaving."

"You can't keep running off to shoots whenever—"

"I meant _permanently_, Derek. I'm leaving Dalton Academy for good."

Derek stared. He and Julian may not get along all the time, but as far as things went in Stuart House, he, Logan and Julian were "friends" in that strange way. And now Julian was going to leave.

"You—you can't _do_ that!" Derek retorted.

"_Watch me_."

"I may not like you all the time, but I sure as hell don't want you to just bail out and give up!"

Julian almost laughed. He pulled his arm away. "I gave up a long time ago." He strode down the hall.

"That's BS, Julian!" Derek yelled back. "If you did, why do you even come back?"

But Julian just vanished to anther hall. Derek ran a hand through his hair shakily. This was a mess. It really was. What was he supposed to do? With Logan breaking down, and with Julian fleeing the fire, what was he supposed to _do_? He shakily turned back to the Hall. He had to at least get Logan back to his bearings first.

As he left the hall, Bailey stepped out of the supply closet where he was getting some materials for a fair booth. He heard everything that went on and he felt his heart pounding. As soon as the coast was clear, he ran to go outside.

* * *

Kurt was ready to collapse by the time evening fell. He trudged towards Windsor streaked completely in paint and he loathed it. The Windsors knew about what he'd been sentenced to and were kind enough to give Kurt one simple task for the rest of the afternoon—help them paint everything. Of course that meant a riot of red, white and pink all over the place.

By the time night fell, Charlie had told him that the cleaning people had finished cleaning up the chaos of Windsor house, and now it was safe to come inside, though the kitchen would remain off limits until the next day. Charlie had to face the whining Tweedles who wanted cookies, but there wasn't anything they could really do about it.

Kurt was a mess and he knew it—he wanted get cleaned up and fall asleep. He was almost to Windsor when Reed skipped over to him. "Hey, Kurt!"

"Hi…"

"Are you okay? You look the way I did during my "red" phase." Reed stared, taking one of the paint pots from Kurt, but Kurt pulled back. "No…you're exempt from any and all fair work."

Reed looked guilty. "Come on, just let me. You've had a rough day."

Kurt eyed him begrudgingly as he let Reed take the can of paint. "How was practice?"

"Scary…" Reed mumbled. "There's a lot of pressure on me now. I've got a solo. The Tweedles did fantastically, but that's expected. Medel just kept telling me, 'don't look so scared!' And I wanted to tell her, 'how?' I'm performing in front of the whole crowd!"

"You've done it before."

"But never solo."

"Point taken… You'll be fine." Kurt sighed. "At least you'll have Shane for emotional—" he stopped at the crestfallen look on Reed's face. "…no. You mean he still hasn't answered?"

Reed just shrugged unhappily. "Maybe he just doesn't want to go."

"Maybe he _can't_ go. He _was_ injured. You know that guy, he's crazy about you." Kurt ducked Reed's swat casually—Reed tripped right over when he missed. "He probably just doesn't want to let you down."

"Well…" Reed mumbled as he got up, brushing himself off. "Breaking news—_I'm down_."

Kurt sighed, rolling his eyes as they went up the steps of Windsor. "These Andersons are killing us. It would be so nice if something made _sense_ for a change."

They entered Windsor to find Dwight in the foyer, his back facing them. He turned to look at them and his face split into the biggest, smug smile they'd ever seen from him. "Ah. Just in time. Behold, my spectacular achievement." He turned fully to them, and when they saw what he had in his hands, Kurt and Reed dropped their paint cans in shock.

It was the gold cage. And inside, was Pavarotti.

"Dwight!" Reed gasped in delight. "How—?"

Kurt went up to him and stared at the cage. That was definitely Pavarotti. And… Kurt stared. "Wait. Is that my _scarf_ in there with him?"

Dwight grinned. "Yes."

"You used my scarf as _nest lining?_" Kurt lunged at him.

"Whoa!" Dwight held the cage up like a shield—and it was a particularly effective one. "Easy! Look. This is how I saw it. This bird? It keeps following you. I mean sure he likes to swoop around all over Windsor, but he often follows where you go."

Reed blinked. "Well…that's kind of true. Pavarotti follows you when you go upstairs. And wasn't he in the room with you and Blaine before?"

"Anyway," Dwight grinned at the cage. "I figured, I should bait him with something of yours. I don't know, maybe he likes the colors or whatever—but I got your scarf and turned it into a little nest on the ceiling beams."

"The _ceiling beams_?" Kurt stared at him incredulously. "What are you, a ninja? How did you get up there?"

Dwight looked insulted. "Kurt, please. As a hunter, I have to know access points to every part of the House." He paused. "Also, I…had to go up there a couple of times while I was making sure that every inch of this House is properly protected. But that's not the point!" he burst out when he saw the expression of incredulity in Kurt's face. "My point is, I made a nest, and every chance I got, I tried to make him fly up there. And just like I expected, he made himself comfortable in it. Then it was just a matter of going up there and sneaking up on him while he was asleep."

"It's a wonder you didn't crush him…" Reed murmured in amazement as he peered into the cage, and then gave Dwight a big hug. "You're great!"

Kurt grinned and did the same. "All right, fine. You're the hero. Again."

Dwight clearly was trying not to look incredibly pleased, so he just rolled his eyes. "I can't keep _saving the day_ all the time here, you know. Take care of yourselves, will you?"

Reed scoffed in disbelief, but grinned. Kurt smirked and took the cage from him, leaning forward with narrowed eyes. "Don't push it." And he went upstairs. Reed laughed at the sophomore, following. "Thanks, Dwight. We owe you big time."

"You owe me each time you wake up un-possessed by demons and un-mauled by undead."

Reed stared. "Uh…how about a cookie?"

Dwight held himself down with great effort for a full minute. "Yeah, okay."

The two others headed upstairs, straight into Kurt and Reed's dorm room where Kurt always kept a tin of cookies or two in the event of an emergency—he didn't understand either, but having the cookies handy had proven useful in Windsor for more than one occasion, mainly used for calming people down.

Kurt stopped in the hall, staring at Blaine's door. He wondered if he'd gotten back yet—it was already dark out but Blaine's room seemed empty. Reed, who stood at the door of their room, smiled a little and took the cage from Kurt's hands. "Do you…want to wait a little?"

Kurt glanced at him and smiled faintly. "No. No, I…" but he didn't move, and glanced back at the door.

At the expression on his friend's face, Reed smiled gently. "You didn't mean to lead him on…Logan, I mean. And…Blaine's just been through some pretty rough times. We can only do our best, right?"

This made Kurt look at him for a moment. "You have that much confidence in me?"

"You have a lot more confidence than I do," Reed said with a smile. "You go out and do what you feel is right. Me, I always worry about consequences. But you know, for what it's worth…I think you and Blaine needed this a little. Get it…out of the way or so to speak."

"And…what if we can't fix this? I mean…he doesn't trust me, and I must've broken his heart…" Kurt shook his head. "I've seen this a hundred times back in my old school—I think I know how the story ends."

Reed now smiled. "…you have that little confidence in him?"

Kurt stared at him in surprise for a moment, and smiled a little in return. "Then take your own advice. For Shane."

"Yeah. These Andersons are killing us." Reed, still smiling knowingly, just went into their room as Kurt turned back to Blaine's door, standing cold and dark.

It wasn't going to be easy at all. He'd always had a lot of pride, and people called him a diva, and he was proud of that. He liked standing by what he believed in. And for a while, he believed that he had been right in the argument.

But when evidence pointed to the contrary, and if he had to be utterly honest with himself:

Didn't he _know_ that this could have happened?

Kurt leaned back on the hallway wall and sighed deeply, staring at the ceiling. This was a miserable way to spend the day before the fair. He knew he hated Valentines' Day for a reason. And this year more than ever. After the fight in the cafeteria, nearly getting expelled…now wasn't the time to talk to him. Maybe he would try, maybe he wouldn't. He didn't know if he even could bring himself to.

But that loneliness…even in a hall full of boys in dorm rooms…with all the others milling about downstairs, upstairs, and outside. He felt alone in the silence of this hall.

It was so silly to feel alone, when everything continued to carry on as though none of this mattered. It didn't matter. To the rest of the world, it was nothing. The Warblers would sing with or without him and Blaine, the Fair would go on, people would come and go—

—but he didn't know what he would really be doing. If he could even face Blaine by tomorrow.

Kurt sighed deeply and closed his eyes, smiling bitterly. _We were supposed to sing together._

How did that song go…?

_Without you, the ground thaws, the rain falls, the grass grows._

_Without you, the seeds root, the flowers bloom, the children play._

_The stars gleam, the poets dream, the eagles fly, without you._

_The earth turns, the sun burns, but I die, without you._

He stood up and walked to the door as he sang, wondering if he should try and lift the latch. But there was no one there. What would be the point?

He laughed hollowly to himself. Who gets to say sorry first? Who was willing to break down pride—when neither of them could even look at each other for long? Were they even sorry?

As fast as they rose, they fell as quickly.

Kurt almost laughed at himself. So melodramatic. So embarrassing. It was just a stupid fight anyway.

_Without you, the breeze warms, the girl smiles, the cloud moves._

_Without you, the tides change, the boys run, the oceans crash…_

But then…

Why did his chest close tight—cutting breath down? Why was he swallowing the lump in his throat and why did his eyes sting? If it didn't matter…if none of it mattered, if he could survive this—because he _was so sure_ he was right…why does he crumple inside a little? Why did he keep his hand on the door? Why did he think he did it—that he was the one who made the mistake, when all the rest of him screamed no?

Why did he _care so much_?

He pulled away from the door, and turned to his room, taking a shaking breath as he pushed his door open, and closing it behind him.

_The crowds roar, the days soar, the babies cry, without you._

_The moon glows, the river flows, but I die, without you…_

And from the steps of Windsor, Blaine finally returned from his own errands, tired to death, physically and emotionally—oblivious to the fact that the song Kurt sang was also the on his mind. _The world revives…_

Kurt closed his eyes. _Colors renew…_

And together they sang a song to each other without knowing it.

_But I know blue, only blue, lonely blue, within me blue…_

Kurt leaned back on his door, exhaling as though he wished it could push all of it away.

_Without you… Without you, the hand gropes, the ear hears, the pulse beats…_

Blaine pushed his own door open and stared into the empty dark. He glanced back to Kurt's door, wondering if he should. If he could. He took two steps toward the door and stopped—when he remembered how Kurt looked at him.

_Without you, the eyes gaze, the legs walk, the lungs breathe…_

Blaine and Kurt took their breaths as though willing themselves to feel the other's, the way they always did when they held each other—seeking comfort in the one place they had always been able to, and now cannot bring themselves to ask for.

_The mind churns! (The mind churns!)_

_The heart yearns! (The heart yearns!)_

_The tears dry, without you._

_Life goes on, but I__'__m gone._

_Cause I die, without you…_

Blaine closed the door to his room, not even bothering to turn on the light. He simply walked to his bed and sat down, burying his face in his hands as he tried to collect himself.

_Without you…_

Kurt lay on his bed, staring into nothing. He didn't say anything to Reed, who looked down at him in sympathy and pulled the cover over him, patting his shoulder. Dwight looked on, not really sure what to do.

_Without you…_

Silence fell in the room Kurt and Reed shared, with the painter sitting quietly at the side of Kurt's bed and gently patting his friend in comfort. Dwight, who had been standing at the side, watching all of this without expression, pulled out his phone when it vibrated.

_Knight, we know you're up there. Come downstairs and report ongoings ASAP! – E&E_

Dwight rolled his eyes. It was not part of his destiny to become a gossip source. Another message came.

_Also, bring the cookies you're eating. – E&E_

Dwight choked on the bite he was eating. _How did they always __**know**__? _He snapped his phone closed and looked at Reed with a deadpan expression. "Twins are calling."

"Go on, I'll stay," Reed answered. Dwight picked up the cookies with a sigh and walked to the door. He stopped and glanced back at Reed, looking supremely awkward as he glanced over Kurt. "Is…he going to be okay? Because… this is a lot of bad vibe and I'm not comfortable existing in this kind of atmosphere. The negativity attracts all sorts of malignant—"

Reed gave him a look. Dwight rolled his eyes and sighed again. "Fine. I'm _worried_, is that what you want to hear? I'm _worried_ about him and Blaine and their torrid love affair and their screaming, and the fights in the hall and the cafeteria, and the almost-expulsion and most of all, I'm worried they'll break up _permanently_ because of the exact same demonspawn that ruined it all _last year!_"

Reed was smiling by the end of the breathless, frantic statement. Dwight turned crimson and glowered at him. "Don't say it."

"I think it's sweet that you care!" Reed exclaimed with a grin.

"…he's still my friend."

"Mm." Reed smiled happily.

"I told you not to say it…" Dwight quickly fled the room, head ducked and cheeks still red.

Reed turned to Kurt on the bed and smiled, patting his friend. Tomorrow was another day. Who knew—maybe things would turn out okay if they all gave it one more try.

It was Valentines' Day, after all—the time to lay it all on the line.

* * *

_On the final part of the Valentines Arc - **Showdown**: Valentines Day is the time to lay it all down on the line. The Fair comes to full swing, and intruders are encroaching on turf. It was time to take a few more risks, shake the school down, and pray desperately that things simply fall into place...all before the fireworks go off._


	23. Showdown

_Hi, I'm CP Coulter and I'm your author for this fic._

_I once again apologize (as I often do) for the time it took for me to post this episode. It's extra long, at over thirty-four thousand words, in the hopes that it'll make up for such a long delay. I won't pretend that this episode will make a lot of sense, as it's not meant to. It's been made so you can see the confusion of the Valentines' Fair first hand, and see that a great many things will be revealed in the mayhem. This will officially end the Valentines' Arc. _

_I continue to thank each and every reader who has put up with my delays, my...apparent madness, and for continuing to support this fanfic. It's been a crazy road, and it's not quite over yet, and I conttinue to hope that you enjoy my fic and my characters. I also continue to thank the real Dalton Academy Warblers, who quite obviously continue to tolerate us, their crazy fangirls, and our zeal. I'd like to thank Aaron Page for his in-character responses as Logan, Dominic Barnes for encouraging and reading the fic, and Riker Lynch for also being so amiable with the fact that people are trying to peg him and his brothers as the Tweedles, or just him as Reed. I'd like to thank Miss Lea Salonga for even glancing at my fic, and Mr. Moy Ortiz of The Company as well for the same (thank you to my friend austenheroine for this info). _

_As always, I continue to hope that you enjoy my fic, and this episode, and for even reading this far in it._

_(The full tracklist for the ep can be found as usual at my tumblr, cpcoulter. tumblr. com)_

_(I do not own Glee, the Warblers, or basically anything except the OCs and the plotlines.)_

* * *

**Dalton**

**Episode 23 - Showdown**

* * *

It was past midnight.

Blaine had changed his clothes and gotten ready for bed, but he couldn't sleep. His head was too full, and conscience refused to grant him truce. The thoughts of who got to be right, who got to be wrong—who had to break down first—

—and he remembered those blue eyes—

_Clink!_

Blaine looked up. He turned to the window.

_Clink!_

Another pebble struck the window. Blaine frowned and rose from the bed walking to the window where he heard the sound just as whoever it was kept going.

_Clink! Clink!—Bang!_

Blaine winced as one pebble—forget pebble, it had to be a rock—struck a window and downright cracked it. He quickly clasped the latch and pulled the window open, looking out into the moonlight.

Below him, standing in the cold ground, breath smoking in the chilled air, wrapped up in a thick coat and a scarf that was almost too big for him, stood Shane, grinning a little and brightening up even more at the sight of him.

"Hey Blaine!" he exclaimed upon seeing him.

"Shh!" Blaine hissed frantically, looking around. He tried to keep his voice down. "Shane, what the heck are you doing here at—" he glanced at the clock, "—_two-thirty in the morning_?"

Shane stamped his feet on the ground, hands in his pockets, trying to keep warm. "I took a cab, climbed a low fence—you know the ivy all over the walls make _really_ good places to climb over? Anyway—"

"Shane, you're supposed to be injured!"

"—I mean yeah, sure, but not anymore, my leg is fine, I told you I've been working on it. It's not one hundred percent and I might limp if it gets particularly strained—"

"_Shane_!"

"Whatever! Let me in!"

"What is the _matter_ with you? Why are you here?"

"You know how I haven't been answering my phone?"

"Yeah?"

"I…" Shane tried to collect his thoughts to adequately explain to his indignant older brother, but only managed to have a miniature spaz attack and flailed his arms. "Reed was _calling_ me that whole time?"

Blaine groaned and rubbed his face in his hands, brushing back his currently unruly black curls. Fantastic. At two-thirty in the morning. "Shane…"

"I mean, like, _what the heck, dude_? I thought _you_ were the only one calling me! _He_ was calling? Messages? Like, buried under all your missed calls and _your_ messages? Is he mad at me? Is he mad at me? Oh man—"

"Shane—"

A window pushed open on the side Blaine's was on. Dwight poked his head out blearily, looking annoyed and very armed with his wood and silver weapon. "I'm sorry to interrupt your charming soiree at such a blessed hour of the night, but I'm this close to shooting him down with my crossbow. Blaine, please tell me that this _is,_ in fact, Shane and not some creature of the abyss sent to keep me from my regular sleeping habits and dull my keen hunting senses?"

"I'm sorry, Dwight," Blaine began with a sigh.

Another window opened to the right and Evan peeked out, looking drowsy, and Ethan did the same with a yawn, but nevertheless looking deeply amused. "What did we miss here…?" Ethan asked.

"Hi Shane…" Evan yawned and was answered with a, "Hi twins…" from Shane down below as Blaine rubbed his eyes, exasperated. "Come inside, Shane…" he muttered.

Shane was hopping up and down on the ground anxiously. "Wait! Answer my question first, Blaine! Is he mad at me? _Tell me_!"

"Blaine—" Dwight had the crossbow aimed.

"Come. Inside." Blaine glowered at his brother and disappeared from the window. Shane blew out his breath in a groan. This wasn't how he had wanted it to go at _all_. If only he'd gotten better sooner—

Evan smiled blearily at Shane, elbows propped on the windowpane and said, "He's furious. Reed is. He probably wouldn't want to see you."

"Ever. You broke his heart. To bits." Ethan added with the same drowsy smile.

Shane turned white as a sheet. "_What?_"

"Mm-hmm…" the Twins continued to smile at him.

"…please tell me you're kidding," Shane breathed.

"Partially."

"Maybe."

"Yeah, you and Blaine?"

"Single for Valentines."

"For good."

"Yes."

Shane's eyes widened in horror. "Oh no. Ohno. Ohnononononono…" He broke into a run towards the entrance, but ended up crashing into his brother who had just come striding out into the grounds, still wearing a shirt and pajama bottoms. Blaine caught his brother's arm and frowned at him. "Come on. Let's go."

"Wait, I have to talk to—"

"You are _not_ waking Reed at this hour of the night. _That_ will get you killed." That, of course, was courtesy of the said boy's roommate who might not be so thrilled at being awoken at this hour. Kurt was angry enough, he didn't need another aggravation.

"But—"

"Don't listen to the twins, they're only messing with you—ignore them…" Blaine dragged his brother off.

"Good night, Shane…" the Twins chorused, waving.

Dwight rolled his eyes, pulled back his crossbow and vanished into his own window, grumbling about possession and the curse of Valentines' Day. It was officially Fair day, as far as everyone is concerned, and the day certainly started in an inauspicious manner already.

Windsor was still dark as a tomb and their footsteps sounded hollow on the wooden staircase when they ascended. As Blaine pulled a _still_ rapidly talking Shane upstairs and to his room, his heart stopped as the door across his opened. A head of rumpled curly hair peered out, rubbing his eyes. "Blaine…?"

"Hey sorry, Reed, did we wake you…?" Blaine sighed as he pulled Shane along—and found Shane anchored to where he was on the floor and immobile. He turned to his brother and found him and Reed staring at each other.

Reed blinked away the sleep in his eyes, wondering if he was actually awake for a moment—because this really couldn't be happening right now. "…Shane…?"

"Reed…" Shane stared. He turned crimson. "I…um…" he let out his breath, having a small spaz attack with his hands for a minute in a failed attempt to look composed. "Hi."

"Hi," Reed answered softly, looking down.

"I'm…" Shane swallowed, wringing his hands. "I'm here for the fair." He ended with an awkward laugh, but the searching look he gave Reed said everything he couldn't.

Reed glanced briefly up at him and seemed unable to hold the gaze. "Oh… That's… really great."

With this new tension in the hall, Blaine was leaning his forehead onto his door, resisting the urge to bang his head on it. He just wasn't equipped to handle this at this hour of the morning. This was just too much running on low sleep, very little dinner and no breakfast.

"Reed, what is it…?"

And it just got worse. Blaine's head snapped up when he heard that voice. Kurt was standing behind Reed in blue silk pajamas and he didn't seem to see Blaine until the older brother walked forward next to Shane. "Oh," Kurt murmured when he saw both Andersons standing there. Blaine stared a little, concerned, when he saw the red around Kurt's eyes.

Shane looked a little confused now, at the tension between Kurt and his brother that seemed to have no explanation, but he caught Reed's eyes and the shorter boy shook his head slightly as though to say, "no." While a little slow sometimes, Shane wasn't completely dense, so he just nodded…

…and said, "Are we all going to fix this mess?"

Blaine stared at him, aghast, wondering if Shane had _actually_ lost his mind. Shane kept talking. "I mean seriously! Look at this! This is nuts! Blaine! Seriously, you're fighting now? _Now_? Honestly. I mean, _I'm_ an idiot, I missed all those calls by myself but what's going on here?"

Reed dropped his face into his hand and Kurt leaned his forehead onto the side of his door, wondering if he was having a hallucination. "Seriously!" Shane continued indignantly as he Blaine took his elbow, saying, "Let's go…let's go inside…"

"But—"

"In the morning, Shane…"

"I just—"

"In the morning," Kurt echoed, making them all look at him. He looked at Blaine a moment, then lowered his eyes. And Blaine looked intently back, eyes unwavering, and a small smile tugged at Reed's mouth at the sight.

"Yeah," Blaine agreed. And he pulled his brother into the room. Kurt grabbed Reed's shoulder and pulled him back in quickly, the smaller boy grinning at him by now, and Kurt admonishing him with his eyes.

* * *

_I'm Kurt. And this is Dalton Academy._

_It's Valentine's Day, and from the beginning, I've never liked this holiday._

_Situation considered, I don't see how this one would be any different and I'm not holding my breath. _

…_unfortunately, ignoring it doesn't make it go away._

* * *

The Fair was deafening when it finally came to full swing. Dalton's gates were open and people streamed into campus. The normally serious and formal atmosphere of the school was completely diffused by the sheer amount of décor that the boys had managed to unleash on the grounds. In their defense, they claimed that it was all the better to attract all the girls from the other schools that had been invited to come. Living in an all-male environment, the occasions when the school open to admit girls in were always made the most of.

Aside from the local people coming in to participate and the girls from Dalton's sister school Dobry Hall, coming in, there was representation from schools all over the region and, as it would appear, from outside of it as well.

A gang of teens carrying one of the maps handed out in the entrance now arrived, holding the map up. Mercedes, dressed in glimmering Valentines finery courtesy of some of the pieces Reed had given her, lowered the map with a frown, revealing the attendance of Finn, Rachel, Mike, Tina, Artie, Brittany and Santana.

"All right. Where is he," Mercedes growled.

"Easy," Tina said warningly as she looked around. She was dressed in a celebratory mass of deep wine lace, hair curled and pulled back, and looked very pretty for the day. Mike couldn't take his eyes off her. "I'm sure he's around here somewhere."

"Which he?" Rachel asked, looking around. "Kurt? Or Blaine?"

"Either one, I want to knock both their heads in." Mercedes glowered.

"Mercedes, please, they can do that by themselves," Santana rolled her eyes, standing with her hand to her hip and wearing in a tight dress in such a way that no boy within a thirty-yard radius could concentrate. It didn't help that her equally gorgeous best friend, towering over Artie, was dressed in shorts and suspenders, stood so near her. The effect was devastating. "If you ask me," Santana sighed, "this is just what happens when you don't jump to the next base! They've been together forever—"

"Weeks?" Finn stared.

"—and they just probably need to work it all out horizontally," Santana gave them a witheringly sweet smile.

"Seriously, though…" said Tina, looking around. "This doesn't count as spying, right? You said those Warblers are performing."

"Well if we see them perform, that's just happenstance," Rachel said matter-of-factly. "It's an open performance. Everyone gets to see, and so will we."

Finn just sighed and rolled his eyes. "Let's go. Come on." And he led them off towards a direction down the grounds, Brittany saying, "I'd like a candy apple…do they have that here in the circus…?" as they left.

Artie was just about to tell her that he'd find her one when he saw a few people acting very strangely among the crowd. If New Directions were worried they would look like spies, these people, by comparison, might be James Bond fans for all of their sneaking around behind the booths.

* * *

Pure Energy did not spy. They most emphatically do not spy, nor do they need to spy, and if they ever remotely had to for any reason, they didn't send their best performers out to do it. That was mainly what Shay—the beautiful black girl with the endless braids—and Mia—their blonde acrobat—were complaining about as the three girls hopped from booth to booth. Brie, the brunette and the second captain, ignored the two of them and looked around at the crowd, eyes narrowed.

Why _did_ Tom send them over? She was fine with going—all these good-looking rich boys, just to go "sightseeing" was enough without having to do any actual spying—and of course if she was going, the other girls would want to come. Devon and Leo went too—Devon because Shay makes her boyfriend go everywhere, and Leo because he had nothing better to do—but Tom himself stayed in New York with most of the team.

If seeing these Warblers perform was so important, why didn't Tom come along? And why the Warblers? Vocal Adrenaline was the team to beat this year. Even New Directions must be more worth spying on than these cushy spoiled rich boys who probably had fall mats beneath their risers when all they ever do was _sway_.

What was the _big deal_, to echo Mia's sentiments? Was there some secret weapon here Tom was particularly worried about?

"_No_, Devon!" Shay was nearly yelling into her phone. They had been trying to find the boys for an hour now. "You, and Leo, get your breakdancing asses here near…near…" She looked at Brie. "…where the hell are we?"

"Uh," Brie narrowed her eyes at a nearby plaque, "Hanover House."

"Hanover House!" Shay yelled into her phone. "Now, Dev, I mean it!" And she jabbed her thumb at her phone with a vicious glare. "_Men_."

"Well there's a whole lot of them around here," grinned Mia, watching some boys leave Hanover House, especially one tall European-type. She gave him a nod, a wink and grinned. The boy made a double take at her and just smiled briefly, but immediately kept moving, looking a little concerned.

* * *

"Justin. Dude. That hot girl just winked at you." Spencer Willis stared at his prefect with wide, incredulous eyes as he followed him towards the South and Main. "What is the _matter_ with you?"

"Not my type," Justin said absently as he pulled out his walkie talkie, looking for a specific channel. "Too much glitter on her makeup. And too much skin exposed to be humanly safe for this outdoor temperature."

Danny Abbot, one of the few Hanover Warblers, rolled his eyes as he flipped through his Sidekick. "Justin, _no one _is your type. If anyone had been your type, you'd be engaged by now. Do you even try?"

"I do try! I just don't like them after the first date…" Justin grumbled. "Leave me alone…"

"Whatever, man," Spencer rolled his eyes. "Your folks are still going to kill you."

"It's their fault for sending me to a demmed all-boys school when they want me to get engaged before I even hit college," Justin retorted, looking annoyed. "I still have the rest of the school year to go. I'll find a girl I would even remotely consider marrying on my own, I don't need mum and dad to intervene."

"Dude, there's got to be like two dozen girls prepared to marry you in that list your parents had back in England," Spencer narrowed his eyes at him.

"They're not marrying _me_, they're marrying my _family_," Justin snapped. "This is going to sound disgustingly storybookish—believe me I _know—_but I stand by the idea that I want to marry someone I _actually want to marry _and would like to marry _me _back. Is that so unbelievable?"

Spencer and Danny looked at each other with sidelong glances that explained that while they understood the sentiment, they were not sure of its true practicality—the time constraint involved was heinous, and they had heard too many good things about European girls. Presently, the walkie talkie crackled. "_Hey, Hanover!_"

Justin raised it to talk. "Windsor, save me—my fellow Hanovers are trying to force me into marriage again."

A pause. And then Charlie carefully asked, "_…have Spence and Danny begun channeled your parents' spirits?_"

"You have _got_ to stop hanging around Houston, mate."

"_If I could, dude, I would. But I'm stuck with him and the rest of that house until graduation._"

"Windsor House still standing?" Justin smirked as he walked through the fair, the other boys following him. "Or did you decide to blow it up yet again this morning?"

"_Dude, shut up. I did what I had to do."_

"Mm. You keeping an eye on Blaine and Kurt?"

"_I left Blaine to medical duty with the rest of the crowd and Kurt to runner duty for the stage people. They should be fine. Blaine's crazy brother came by, so Blaine's got that ball and chain with him. How about your prisoner of war?_"

"I left Logan at the information booth under guard." Justin grinned. "I picked the most mundane, harmless job I could give him for the fair. Surely _he _couldn't mess things up from that end."

"_Sounds quiet." _Charlie must've been grinning at the plight of their fellow prefect. "_I suppose he was grateful_."

* * *

"I freaking hate Justin Bancroft."

Derek burst into laughter from the candy-striped information tent. He was leaning at one of the posts of the frivolous tent with the big obnoxious "information" sign hanging outside. Logan sat at the desk, moving around papers of maps, students, events and programs that encompassed the fair. Why they couldn't give him all this stuff digitally was beyond his comprehension especially after Dalton boasts one of the most devastating tech minds in Ohio—who incidentally had been hauled by Charlie out of his hole and was currently wandering the Fair with his head still ducked down onto his netbook.

"Hey on the upside—you're not running around like Kurt and Blaine are," Derek said casually with a shrug as Logan stripped off his uniform jacket. "You get to stay still."

"I'm a freaking secretary." Logan buried his face in his hands, repressing a breath of frustration. "I've been reduced to a freaking secretary." Without looking up, he picked up a folder and swatted Julian's side with it—the actor had been sitting on the table dressed in dark clothing and wearing sunglasses. "Get off the desk."

Julian made a face at him, rolling his eyes from behind the glasses and got off the desk, going around the table to enter the tent. "Well _you're_ incredibly bitchy today."

"I thought you'd be in a better mood at least now that Pavarotti is back," Derek commented.

Logan eyed him from the side. Yes, the prize warbler miraculously reappeared within Stuart House that morning. Bailey had been the one to find him first, and was trying to pry out the compromising Hermes scarf still in the cage when Logan had come into the anteroom. Bailey looked like deer caught in headlights, but Logan simply picked the scarf out and handed it to him. He couldn't give it back to Kurt himself, so he let Bailey do it.

"Whatever…I'm sure the Windsors must've just gotten tired of looking after him."

"Wouldn't it be ironic if Blaine ended up getting awarded with him for the next year?" Julian smirked. "Since he seems to be doing a far better job at things than you."

Logan finally put down his pen and glowered at the two Stuarts in dark glasses in the tent. "What are you both even doing in here?"

"Keeping you company?" Julian suggested sarcastically. "You know we die without being within fifteen feet of your majestic presence at all times."

Derek made a snort of derisive laughter and Logan just glared at him, eyeing the dark glasses Derek also had propped on his hat. "Tell me you both aren't hiding out in here," Logan demanded.

"Derek accidentally sent a mass message to all of his girlfriends," Julian said with a snort. "And now they're all here. At the fair. Looking for him."

"Congratulations," Logan said to Derek with a raised eyebrow. "What shall I have them put down on your headstone? 'Here Lies Derek, Killed by Greed and Libido'?"

"Julian's hiding here too," Derek pointed out.

"Unlike you, I'm hiding from paparazzi and fangirls," Julian grumbled, pushing up his glasses. "Dalton is open to the public, some of my fans already know I study here—you do the math."

"Why didn't you just tell them you weren't attending?" Logan asked.

"I told my publicist to tell them I flew to Miami for a photoshoot, but that didn't get out soon enough. I've already spotted cameras around here and some of my crazier fans."

"Man up and face them," Logan snapped. "Stop being so dramatic." He graced him with a glance. "You'll be all right while you're in school grounds. I don't care what you do, if you're not going to be useful, get out of here and go somewhere else."

Derek expected Julian to make a scathing retort about how Logan was just as, if not more, dramatic than he was, but Julian just glared at the prefect wordlessly. The actor felt Derek staring at him, and looked up, bestowing him a withering glare that told him to shut up without having to say it out loud.

"All right, then." Julian got up abruptly, grabbing his body bag and pushing up his dark glasses, all with a smile that was supposed to be a condescending grimace, but was, in fact the bitterest thing Derek had ever seen. And without another word, the actor strode out of the tent and into the crowd.

Logan and Derek stared after him in surprise. Logan frowned. "What the hell is the matter with him?"

"You told him to leave, he left," Derek said coolly. But he knew what Logan meant. They didn't think he would actually _leave_. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that Logan really didn't seem to care.

Logan glared at the direction the actor went. "He's the biggest priss I've ever _seen_ and that's saying something considering who I know," he mumbled and started to organize his papers again. Derek wanted to chuck a plastic chair at him. There was no way anyone could be _that_ dense when Julian had actually made it so obvious by pulling down his guards enough for the dramatic walkout.

Or maybe he really just _was_ blinded by Kurt at the moment.

_I give up. _Derek decided irritably. _I freaking give up. You'd think we would have less drama of this in an all-boys school. But __**no…**__**I**__ had to get stuck with the most tempestuous prat in Stuart __**and**__ Dalton, as well as a gargantuan primadonna with confession issues. Screw it, I'm moving to Hummel's old school, maybe it'll be __**peaceful**__ there by comparison._

Of course he would be wrong. But he didn't really know that.

"Hey," he suddenly said, nudging Logan. "Look at those guys. Haven't we seen them before?"

Logan looked up to where Derek nodded to, and sure enough, there was a pack of people looking around, as though looking for someone. Logan's eyes landed on the jacket on the tallest boy and frowned. "Great. McKinley."

Just as he said this, after a brief squabble in the group ended with the smallest girl striding up to the information booth looking as though she were restraining herself from exploding at everyone standing there. "Hello," she said with a big show smile. "Do you know where we can find Kurt Hummel?"

Logan raised his eyes to her and smiled a little. "Rachel Berry, right?"

Rachel blinked and did a double take at him, and then she held herself up a little higher as she looked at him and finally recognized him from Sectionals and the party they last crashed at Dalton. "Oh. Yes. Logan, isn't it?"

Logan smirked slightly. "I see that my notoriety has reached McKinley."

"Well, considering who you are, your notoriety must have spread far more than that," Rachel said, but not unkindly—simply stating fact. She cleared her throat. "Have you seen Kurt?"

Logan considered her and then the people a way off behind her and then looked at Rachel again. "You can try near the stage. But he's on runner duty, he could be…anywhere in the fair."

"Runner duty?" Rachel frowned. "Well, aren't you supposed to be preparing for a performance?"

Derek blinked. So they didn't know yet. Logan sighed and leaned back on his chair, looking almost too tall for his seat. "The Warblers still are. They just don't include me, Kurt, or Blaine."

"Why not?" Rachel asked as her frown deepened.

"Is there something wrong here?" Finn asked, finally walking up to the tent. Rachel glanced at him, but Logan got up. "Finn, right?" he asked. Rachel saw that when Logan stood, he was at equals with Finn—that didn't happen often.

"Oh, you're…" Finn frowned a little, a little cautious. "You're Logan. You're that guy that, uh…came over before?"

"I am." Logan nodded. "We haven't actually met properly." There was a tense pause between them all, until Logan nodded to the direction of the stage. "I told her you could probably find Kurt there. Running around."

"All right, then." Finn smiled a little. Derek snorted and shook his head from inside the tent as the McKinley students went back to their group and then departed for the direction of the stage. Kurt's friends seemed to have virtually no idea of what happened just yesterday. If they knew, things would be a great deal more complicated.

"You realize, when they find out, Kurt's stepbrother will hunt you down, right?" Derek said. "Or that girl with them who looks like she _already_ wants to hunt someone down."

"Her name is Mercedes, and I don't doubt that for a second…" Logan answered calmly. He considered Finn. "I could probably take him, though."

"You're not supposed to be taking him anywhere?" Derek raised an eyebrow. "You're _this_ close to being expelled."

"True…" Logan sat on the table silently. After a moment at staring at the floor, seeming lost in deep consideration of things that he'd always imagined he should've thought about but never really did so seriously, he looked at Derek. "…I screwed up, didn't I? Bigger and worse this time?"

"With what?"

"Kurt…Blaine…school…life?"

"Welcome to high school." Derek got up and sighed. "On the upside, admitting you have a problem is your first step." He moved to the exit of the tent—

"…I'm…I think I'm going to stop chasing after Kurt."

Derek stopped at the statement he wasn't expecting to hear until senior year at least. He turned slowly. "Pardon?"

Logan was looking at him intently, gauging his reaction. "I mean…_seriously _try. Before, I…I wasn't really trying. I just felt like…if I really liked him, I couldn't back out that easily. I think…I should try now. For real. …if I really cared."

Slowly, Derek turned to his friend. "You're serious."

"Yes."

"Good…" Derek nodded.

"Yeah."

A pause. "Not that I'm not completely relieved, but…what brought this epiphany on?"

Logan shook his head, looking down. "I'm…tired. Not—not in the way you think. I'm tired of…him looking at me like he's so defensive. That's one thing that's never changed. He's so…guarded when he looks at me, like…he was scared." He smiled briefly at Derek. "The best moments I've ever had with him were each time he smiled at me…when he looked at me and smiled without any guards up. Only ever happened…maybe twice."

Logan sighed deeply—tired far more than he really should be. "…I just wanted him to look at me."

"It doesn't mean that he doesn't _care_ about you, Logan."

"The point is—if I keep…if I keep doing this, I will lose him. I _have_ lost him. I think…I have to pull back. I have to let him go."

Another pause. Derek looked up at him, a little uncomfortable. "Are you…going to be all right?"

Logan rose from the table and sat back down on the chair. "…I have to try." His knuckles were white as they clutched at his pen. He shook a little. "…I have to try."

Derek considered him and finally realized what Julian meant. Logan was so far into Kurt right now that there was virtually no way that Julian would even appear as a blip on the radar. And looking at it from his end, yes, he _could_ see how much that would really sting. It must've really been something else for Julian—to have withstood it these past years. Maybe the running helped. Or maybe he just couldn't stay away. Just like Logan couldn't just leave Kurt alone.

Derek just exited the tent, muttering, "You are so dense."

"What was that?"

"Nothing! I'm going to brave the warzone and hope karma doesn't hit me!"

"Hey!"

Derek stopped and glanced back to see Logan lifting the tent flap and looking at him with a frown, irritated. "Make sure Julian doesn't do anything monumentally stupid while he's running around. I don't want to be have to fend off fangirls or paparazzi when they go overboard."

The urge to say it all to his face was overwhelming. Derek almost felt furious. But he wasn't about to tell Logan anything that Julian wasn't prepared to say himself. This was _Julian's_ problem, not his. So he only gave him a shrug. "Fine." And strode off before he did anything else.

Logan wondered, as he walked back into the tent, if his friends were disappointed that he gave up, or if they were just glad he was trying to help himself for once.

* * *

"So if you're so dying to go with Shane for the fair, _why are you hiding under my coat?_" Kurt asked in exasperation at the shorter boy clutching onto the back of his coat and looking at the crowd apprehensively. It was difficult to pull Reed along _and_ juggle the stack of equipment that he was supposed to be carrying to the direction of the stage.

It was looking to be a long day of errand duty—especially after the boys from the AV Committee woke him way too early via cell to help them setup the stage. Of course they were Stuarts—if they were Windsors, they wouldn't have woken him just after dawn.

Reed had woken with him and had been attached to him like a duckling following its mother. Kurt frowned down at him. "I'm sure Shane is up by now, aren't you supposed to be with him for the fair? You've been whining about it for days."

"It got awkward," Reed mumbled, ashamed of himself and dreadfully so. "…you know after he didn't call, and I got upset and…he just suddenly shows up and…and I got huffy and…I thought I'd show him what it was like having calls ignored and—"

"You're mad he let you down," Kurt clarified as he set down the equipment by the audio station.

Reed groaned helplessly. "What am I _doing, _Kurt? What have I _become_?"

"Oh settle down…" Kurt sat him at one of the chairs as he then struggled to untangle to wires in his hands. "People get huffy, they do things they're not proud of, they say things they don't mean—"

"Way to project on me, Kurt—"

Kurt just glowered at him. All right, maybe it was true. He said "this morning" to Blaine but he had yet to even have a chance to sit down and stop and have a chance to fix what they had between them, even if he _did_ know what he was going to say or do, and he didn't. But the both of them were currently running on duties up and down the fair and if he hasn't actually seen Blaine all morning then it wasn't for lack of trying.

Reed sighed. "…you think I should answer his calls?"

"How many times has he called?"

Reed held up his cell phone. There were at _least_ twenty-four missed calls from "Shane Anderson" as the screen said, and at least thirty-eight messages. Kurt sighed. "Has Blaine called you?" Reed asked as he pocketed his phone.

Kurt shrugged as he finished coiling the wire. "I haven't had a chance to check. Besides…it's a big fair and he must be busy too anyway. Once we finish this insane day, we can talk." Kurt threw a microphone into its case and snapped it shut, irritated. "I can't believe that I'm not singing for this Fair. Look at this crowd."

"It's totally packed," Reed admitted, looking pale. He paused, staring at the crowds milling about and looked at Kurt. "Do you think if I beg Harvey, he'll swap you with me? I mean _you're _willing to do it and I—"

"Oh no you don't," Kurt glared at him. "One, Harvey won't cave. You saw his face. And believe me, if I thought I could convince him, I'd be talking to him right now and not leaving until I could get onstage. And two, you are _not_ going to back out from your first solo."

"It doesn't _matter_ if I get a first solo or not," Reed whined, flopping over the chair like a rag doll. "No one's going to care, and I care about the spotlight far _far_ less than you do—"

"Reed! You are _not_ throwing away this opportunity, you are _not_—or I'm going to disown you," Kurt glowered at him, hands to his hips. "You call yourself a Warbler? Get up. Come on." He grabbed Reed's hand and tried to pull him off the chair, but Reed went completely limp—and flopped down onto the ground like a soggy coat and didn't get up. "_Reed_! Come on, you're acting like a child."

Reed reluctantly got to his feet and brushed himself off as Kurt gave him a deeply disapproving look. The curly-top looked guiltily at his friend. "I'm sorry, I know I shouldn't be like this around you especially since you wanted to be singing for the fair… But…I really don't feel confident right now."

Kurt pursed his lips. "Well you've got to stop psyching yourself out." He took Reed's gloved hand. "Come on. Let's go."

"Go where?"

"We're going to get you comfortable singing in front of this crowd."

"_What_?" Reed looked like Kurt had just suggested that he abstain from Paris Fashion Week. Kurt ignored the sudden lack of color in Reed's face and pulled him along the fair grounds. After a morning of running around with the equipment committee and helping set everything up, Kurt probably knew where everything was at this fair already.

A trio of Warblers had worked together to set up a kind of closed recording booth, with a very good mic setup—so couples could sing love songs to one another and bring home a CD of the song. It was actually very clever and was already rather popular. By the time they got there, there was a crowd of girls waiting their turn, hoping to record their own songs, and boys hoping to serenade girlfriends, as the booth gave you the option to kill all sound outside, or to allow the boys manning it to turn on the speakers outside so people could hear you.

The latter one was surprisingly popular.

When Reed saw where Kurt was taking him, he immediately stopped like a dead weight that nearly jerked Kurt back. Kurt rolled his eyes. "Come on. You're going to do this. You really want to be this anxious when you perform later? You performed during Winter Fest for crying out loud."

"Yeah, but you were singing with me and that made things a little easier!"

Kurt glowered at him. "Are you sure you want to be this anxious? Shane _will_ be watching you perform no matter how awkward you get around him."

When Reed's face turned crimson, it had the desired effect. Kurt smiled and went past the line to Bailey, who was, predictably, one of the boys who came up with the music booth.

"Hey Kurt!" he said cheerfully, pulling his headset down—once again, you could hear the music beating loudly out of them. "Looks like our booth's a hit. It'll make a pretty big piece of contribution."

"You all don't come from the same House though," Kurt remarked.

"Yeah, well, we decided to split the profits three ways, so each House gets a share," Bailey grinned at him and Reed, who smiled brightly up at him.

"Not bad," Kurt grinned, hand to his hip. "We need a small favor."

"You want to try it out, huh?" Bailey grinned in answer.

The music began to play over Bailey's headset and into the outside speakers the moment he hit play over at the controls. Reed giggled from inside the booth as Kurt slipped the headphones over his head. This did seem rather fun. "I'm only singing if you are too, though," Reed reminded him.

"Doesn't that defeat the entire purpose of this exercise?" Kurt raised an eyebrow.

"Kurt, you are _not_ leaving me in this booth—I swear, I will run out. I will."

"All right! All right…" Kurt rolled his eyes pulled on his own headphones, the two of them standing close to the studio microphone. This was probably the only time he'd sing for a crowd today anyway. "Just sing. You know this song." Outside, the people in line watched curiously at the two good-looking boys at the microphone.

Bailey waved to them and gave them the signal as he flipped the mic switch, signaling that they were ready. Kurt, who stood in front of the glass window, now moved out of the way so as to not block Reed's view of the crowd. As "Fools Like Me" started to play, Reed still looked a little awkward and gave Kurt a meaningful look, begging him to go first. Kurt sighed, smiled a little and leaned forward.

_Everybody go…_

_The party's over_

_I want to be alone in my head, in my bed tonight_

_You never show…_

The girls outside burst into exclamations of delight. There were giggles as they tried to peer in, wondering who the elegant-looking boy singing to the microphone was and who his charming, curly-haired friend was. The Dalton boys in the nearby booths looked up at the familiar sound of Kurt's voice and started to grin.

Kurt nodded in encouragement to Reed as he sang, "_I'm right back where I started…_" and Reed joined in, "_When it comes to wanting you…_"

"_I can't have what I wanted..._" Kurt continued, nodding to Reed with a smile, and the both of them sang:

_But I did, I can; I was, I am only human; living, dying_

_Just like any fool who ever breathed…_

_If love is blind, if love's a drug; _

_It always is, it always was and love was surely made for fools like me…_

Kurt smiled, sensing the crowd gathering outside the booth, looking curiously in and wondering who was singing. He smirked. At the very least, this would help Reed get over his nerves and Kurt could still get his audience. He now shot Reed a look, and his friend, clearly feeling better now, leaned forward to the mic and sang,

_I know where I'm going_

_I'm tripping, I'm sliding around, that's ok_

_At least I'm excited…_

The two of the joined together again in song, both leaning close to the single microphone:

_It wasn't how I planned it (wasn't how I planned it; Feet are where I landed; At least I understand it now) _

_My feet are where I landed… (feet are staying on the ground)_

_But I did, I can; I was, I am only human; living, dying_

_Just like any fool who ever breathed…_

The crowd outside began to grin in approval of the two inside the recording booth, and Bailey was grinning so hard that he could barely stop himself from turning up the volume just a little bit more.

And from among the row of booths not too far from where the music came from, Shane was standing, listening transfixed, hand clutching onto his brother's jacket. "Blaine. _Blaine_!"

"I'm not deaf, Shane, I can hear it…" Blaine answered, a small smile on his lips as he lifted his head from fixing the first aid kit. He glanced to his brother, whose expression suggested that he may have been listening to angels and not merely a pair of high school choir members.

_Fools like me; Fools like me…_

"You want to go closer?" Blaine suggested patiently after it seemed that Shane is immobile and could not be pulled away from the sound.

"Yesplease." was the automatic response, and it was Shane who pulled them towards the music.

But it was easier said than done, when they reached the periphery of the music booth, there was already quite a crowd that gathered, listening to two of Dalton Academy's famous choir's members. Both students and guests were surrounding the booth, and Blaine could've sworn that he saw a McKinley jacket flit through the bodies in the crowd.

Shane jumped up and down to see, and past the sea of heads, he saw the two inside the booth, moving to the music and singing with smiles.

_Maybe it's the sanest thing or just the sweetest kind of dream _

_But love was surely made for fools…_

_Love was surely made for fools…_

_Love was surely made for fools like me…_

The music stopped and a cheer rose from outside the booth, led by the Dalton students. Bailey grinned at them from the window, giving them a thumbs up, and Kurt and Reed laughed as they slipped off their headphones and hung them up before heading out of the booth. They were greeted by applause and appreciative looks from the crowd that had formed.

"Oh, I can definitely understand how Rachel lives on applause, you know, on times like these…" Kurt breathed with a satisfied smile as he looked around the crowd.

Reed, while grateful for the reaction gleaned from the crowd, eyed him sideways. "Then forget Tinkerbell, you two must be the undying rulers of Fairyland."

"I heard that."

The two of them looked up to see the two incumbent divas of New Directions to their left. Rachel glowered at them, hands to her hips, but it was Mercedes who looked downright mad. Kurt stared at them with wide eyes. "You're here already?"

"We're all going to talk." Mercedes grabbed both Kurt's hands, but she gave Reed a notably brighter, friendlier smile. "Reed, hon, do you think you could find the boys for us? We lost them in the fair and we were kind of planning on yelling at Kurt _and_ Blaine at the same time?"

"What?" Kurt hissed.

"Okay," Reed smiled a little nervously at Kurt's dagger glare but sped off to a different direction. Before Kurt could even protest, Mercedes' expression turned dark again and she pulled them off into the throng of the fair.

And from the crowd, Brie glanced to the other members of Pure Energy coming up to her before turning her eyes back to the combination of Warblers and New Directions that just split into two different directions.

"Not bad at _all_," Leo muttered, eating a candy apple, watching them go.

"Man, shut up," Devon grumbled, frowning. "Is that what Tom had us fly from New York for? Sheesh."

"Don't even front, you _know_ they were good," Shay snapped at her boyfriend, expression also looking dark.

"That was only two of them, Brie," Mia added, for the first time not looking so complacent. "What do the rest of them sound like live?"

"We'll see," Brie finally said, authoritatively as their co-captain. She smirked a little. "Besides…singing in a music booth is one thing. I'll bet you those boys will crack under pressure of a real show." She had to admit, her feathers were a little ruffled at the surprising display, especially from that taller one in the booth, but the smaller one didn't look like performance material. "What do you say we show them how it's done…?" she murmured.

"Wait." Leo frowned, walking up to her, eyes darkening. "You want us to—here?"

"Now?" Mia echoed, looking a little worried. "We're in their turf, Brie, is this such a good idea?"

"Hey, this isn't a competition," Brie smirked. "We're just…having fun." She walked off. This, and those Warblers, is _so not_ competition at all.

* * *

Shane pushed through the dissipating crowd and suddenly found himself having lost sight of his goal. Kurt and Reed were nowhere to be found—he was sure that they were standing just outside the booth a moment ago, and now they were gone as though they'd evaporated into thin air.

Quickly, he pulled out his phone and dialed Reed's number, seeing if he could get a hold of him. "Shane, I told you, don't just run off," Blaine said, appearing next to him with a frown. The way he glanced around the crowd suggested that it may not have been just Shane he was looking for, however. "I'm supposed to be responsible for you, remember? And I've got to go back to the first aid tent."

The call went straight to voicemail. Shane grumbled and hung up, looking very distressed. "He's still not answering."

"If he hasn't answered the first two dozen times you called, what makes you think he'll answer now?" Blaine replied, pulling his brother away.

"Well I know you're upset, but don't take it out on me, Blaine," Shane protested. "That's your habit, you tend to get wrapped up in your big dark cloud of _angst_. And unlike you, I'm willing to go find Reed and _grovel_ if necessary!"

"Well, he doesn't seem to be partial to listening to you grovel right now," Blaine sighed. "I'm just saying let him cool down."

The crowd was thickening already. And his phone just alerted him of a broadcast from the Fair's first-aid group—that they were suddenly getting some people who were experiencing weird side-effects from some kind of food from the fair. Blaine had the disturbing suspicion that Drew and Satoru had actually made good on their plans and that they've contaminated some of the food with whatever they managed to cook up at the last minute.

If last year was indication, opening the school to the public usually amounted to quite a bit of work on those assigned to the Fair's first-aid tent, but this certainly will double the work. Blaine felt apprehension rising to all new levels—how was he supposed to find Kurt in this mess now?

"But you're supposed to be talking to Kurt too," Shane whined as though Blaine were not already completely aware of this fact. "Can't we just find them both already and fix this?"

"I tried calling and he's not answering either." Blaine sighed as he sent a text blast to everyone in Windsor: _Drew laced the food. Find out what!_ "I figured it was because he was busy, but if he has time to sing with Reed, then I guess he must be avoiding me. Can't say I blame him." He grumbled to himself, "…I really did act like a jerk."

"Your angst cloud is there again."

"I can't help it, Shane."

"That's why you should come with me and let's settle this!" Shane said with wide eyes at his brother. "You can't lose Kurt, Blaine—you've lost too many people already. And I've never seen you this into a person before. Ever."

"Don't you think I know that?" Blaine said finally, turning to him in exasperation.

Shane's face split into a grin, not really one to let his brother's mood get the better of him in times like these. "So? What are we waiting for? Let's go talk to them." He grabbed Blaine's hand and he took several running steps into the fair—and promptly stopped.

Blaine patiently peeled his hand away. "You have no idea where they are, do you?"

"…no."

Blaine's phone was going crazy with the first aid team looking for him. "All right, Shane. I promise we'll look for them, but for now, let's go to the tent? Because I have to find out what Drew put in the food and _what_ food he put it in, if only to make sure no one _else_ eats the stuff. Besides, once I find out what it is, I'll have to let Kurt and Reed know so they can stay away from it too. I can't have Kurt eating that stuff."

"It's likely that it'll be the first thing Reed eats, seeing as how he's so danger-prone, like you said," said Shane, looking worried as Blaine walked on.

Shane sighed deeply. He wondered if Reed _was_ still in a bad mood. He didn't mean to, for heaven's sake. What did a guy have to do around here? Because at this point he was willing to do next to anything! That look on Reed's face that morning! Shane wanted to smack himself. _Stupid, stupid, stupid…Alexander Graham Bell should smash the first telephone onto my head…_

A strawberry-blond head went past one of the booths. Shane stopped instantly. Was that…?

"Shane?" he heard Blaine ask.

"Just—just give me a second." Shane was walking off quickly through the crowd, eyes to where he saw him go past. That was him, it had to be. He didn't know what he was going to do, but groveling sounded good. Or just—anything, just to get Reed to talk to him!

_So scared of breaking it that you won't let it bend_

_And I wrote two hundred letters I will never send…_

_Sometimes these cuts are so much deeper then they seem_

_You'd rather cover up, I'd rather let them be…_

Shane ran to the bend but found no one. Where…? He looked frantically around and saw a flicker around another corner. He bolted to it just as Blaine managed to catch up to him.

_So let me be and I'll set you free…_

Nothing. Again! Shane let out his breath in a groan. He kept slipping through his fingers! And yet as he saw another flicker of a familiar expensive coat go past one of the booths, he get to his feet again and sang desperately,

_I am in misery_

_There ain't nobody who can comfort me, oh yeah…_

_Why won't you answer me?_

_The silence is slowly killing me, oh yeah…_

And he continued as he began to run forward again, dodging fair-goers and jumping over things in the way,

_Oh, you really got me bad_

_You really got me bad_

_Now I'm gonna get you back_

_I'm gonna get you back…_

Blaine wanted to grab Shane by the back of the jacket but his brother had already run off again. What in the world was wrong with him? He would've made to further chase after his brother until he thought he heard a familiar voice. He quickly turned—and he could've sworn he saw Mercedes pulling along the boy he was madly in love with.

Pride, will, and responsibilities flew out the window at the sight of Kurt. He ran to him.

_Your salty skin and how it mixes in with mine_

_The way it feels to be completely intertwined…_

_Not that I didn't care, it's that I didn't know_

_It's not what I didn't feel, it's what I didn't show…_

He pushed through the crowd, moving past the stalls, and then laying his hands to one of the booth walls as he peered around to see Kurt being led off elsewhere.

_So let me be and I'll set you free…_

He moved forward, determined, from where Kurt was now standing still, looking as though he were having an intent discussion with Rachel and Mercedes. The three divas were all talking with frowns on their faces. Blaine quickly ran towards them.

_I am in misery_

_And there ain't nobody who can comfort me, oh yeah…_

_Why won't you answer me?_

_The silence is slowly killing me, oh yeah…_

A troop from St. Patrick passed in front of Blaine in an excited crowd, and by the time the entire group had managed to pass by, the three divas were gone. Blaine stood, stricken, and looked around in alarm until he saw Rachel's scarlet jacket heading towards the direction of the booths near Stuart. He immediately followed.

_Oh, you really got me bad_

_You really got me bad_

_Now I'm gonna get you back_

_I'm gonna get you back…_

Blaine was determined not to lose sight of them and as he ran, Shane was running nearly to the same direction, following after the sight of Reed's hair in the crowd—he was leading what looked to be a tall brunet, wearing a football jacket. He felt a little apprehensive. He's not going to spend time with that guy for the Fair was he? _Was he?_

_You say your faith is shaken, and you may be mistaken_

_You keep me wide awake and waiting for the sun…_

Blaine kept his eyes on Rachel's bright jacket and Kurt's brilliant scarf, made sure they were going in a certain direction, and proceeded to go for a short cut to make sure he ran into them at the next alley. New Directions was here. They're going to be furious. From the look on Mercedes' face, she _was_ furious. But if there was anyone he needed to explain to, it wasn't them—Kurt. He had to get Kurt back, he knew that at he breathlessly sang,

_I'm desperate and confused, so far away from you_

_I'm getting there, I don't care where I have to roam…_

Shane panted, his foot starting to throb a little, but he ignored it. Where did Reed disappear off to? Why was he going with those guys, and why wasn't he picking up his phone?

And not far off, Blaine was commiserating. Shane saw his brother as he found himself standing in front of the same booth as Blaine, they both looked to the direction that they had seen the two go to and they both moved to that direction, dodging people as they went.

_Why do you do what you do to me, yeah?_

_Why won't you answer me, answer me yeah?_

_Why do you do what you do to me yeah?_

_Why won't you answer me, answer me yeah?_

They dodged a maelstrom of paintballoons when they passed by one of the booths the Twins had already set up, being narrowly missed by the projectiles—one grazing Shane's shirt—and they both reached the spot where the whole group was supposed to be passing at that very moment:

_I am in misery_

_And there ain't nobody who can comfort me, oh yeah_

_Why won't you answer me?_

_The silence is slowly killing me, oh yeah_

Only to be met with no sign of them.

_Oh you really got me bad_

_You really got me bad_

_And now I'm gonna get you back_

_I'm gonna get you back…_

Shane was panting, a hand on his recently-recovered leg. He felt like Greg House on a bad day. "Where did they go?"

"I have no idea, I was sure they went this way…" Blaine stared around for any sign of Kurt. How could they have just disappeared? "Maybe they went—"

_POW!_

And both Andersons found themselves dripping in white and red paint, stunned into openmouthed silence. The rivulets of red and white streamed off their faces, hair and clothes, courtesy of obscenely large paint balloons thrown with surgical precision. Behind them, an explosion of hysterical laughter echoed from two identical voices.

"Direct hit!" Evan crowed.

"'Their weapons are powerful, sir, we can't take another hit like that!'" Ethan quoted, grinning from ear to ear.

Blaine gaped at them, virtually unable to react.

"Hey, you pass our booth and not say hello, you're just asking for it," Evan grinned.

"So, hello," Ethan said happily, smirking.

They were still met with stunned silence as the Andersons continued to drip. Evan swept forward and draped his arm around Blaine's shoulders. "Oh come on, grumpy gills. You've been down all morning, we've seen you!"

"Cheer up!" Ethan said happily, an arm around Shane in a similar manner. "It'll all work out, you'll see. There's no point in getting so down when everyone else is so _happy_ you know?"

"We're all having fun here and you should too!"

"Lighten your mood a little bit—trust us, it'll make the talk afterwards a little easier when your mood is better!"

At these words, Shane closed his eyes and carefully wiped the paint from his face with his hands. He looked like a strawberry milkshake at the moment but he looked spectacularly composed for someone usually given to flights of insanity similar to the Twins'. "Blaine…" he said very calmly as he glanced at his brother, righteously indignant. "I'd like your permission to annihilate them."

"Oh, I'll help you," Blaine growled as he lunged for the twins, who whooped in delight and bolted off, throwing more paint balloons at the two Andersons.

* * *

Julian hissed in irritation as a pair of tall blond twins raced past him, their paint balloons narrowly missing him as they pitched them at a pair of highly colorful Andersons, flinging paint in all directions as they ran.

The actor glowered at the sight of Blaine, red, white and pink paint matted onto his curls and paint still dripping off his face, and wondered what in the name of all that is good in Hollywood Boulevard that Logan ever saw in that short tenor. Sure he was very easy on the eyes and he could carry a tune, but besides that…

_Hypocrite. That's what caught your eye with Logan in the first place._

His own mental voice was turning against him. Wonderful.

It did not take very long for the women in the Fair to catch on to the fact that Julian Larson _was_ wandering the vicinity, with no bodyguards and virtually unprotected save for fellow Stuarts who probably had no idea of the actual results of what happens when he materializes in a public area.

The first two girls who realized who he was nearly broke their necks with their double takes as their respective dates were forgotten. Julian had momentarily pulled off his dark glasses to rub his eyes—there wasn't much sleep for him last night after he tried to go over and over about leaving Dalton. In the end, the result was the expected, "Screw it—I'm tired. I'm out."

His schedule, his work, his _life_ may be downright punishing in the glare of every halogen lamp in Los Angeles, but it was better than scorching under Logan's contempt. Why the hell were they even friends anyway?

That was what he was thinking when he approached one of the food booths and tried to find something to eat. A girl nearby had eyed him and whispered to her friends. After some prodding, she approached, maintained prudent distance, and politely asked if he was Julian Larson.

What was the point of saying no? She knew the answer, the question was only out of formality. So he said he was. Though the group politely asked him to sign their sleeves and take a couple of shots with the cell phone cameras (the boys running the food booth snickering the whole time), it was only a matter of time before things went downhill.

Julian's food went untouched as they swarmed closer, the small pack gradually thickening. A person would have been unable to perceive that he was actually in turmoil inside due to the day's bad start and the fact that he was ravenous. When Julian was "on", he was really at it. Too well-drilled in Hollywood to do otherwise.

That was when the _official_ Julian Larson fanclub members haunting the fair realized what was going on.

He literally had seconds to escape. The fair marshals already realized what was going on but they could only do so much as they tried to intervene, and Julian needed to get out while he could.

That was when he met Adam.

The hand that grabbed Julian's wrist was incredibly strong, belonging to someone who was just his height and size. The Dalton boy who grabbed him through the crowd was tugging him along so fast that Julian thought he'd fall over.

"Come on!" came the hiss of the boy wearing the Dalton uniform under his thick black coat.

While the marshals tried to calm everyone down—nobody was very happy, of course and some of the girls _did_ pursue the actor—the tall, dark-haired boy who snatched Julian along bounded through the crowds, taking off his ski hat and pulling it over Julian's in an attempt to camouflage his far too well-tended locks.

"Who the hell are you?" Julian demanded as they two ducked panting into an alley by the South and Main, incidentally the same place where Karofsky had taken Kurt some time ago. They now tried to catch their breaths, panting, and Julian tried to observe his unlikely rescuer. He looked his age, taller and a little broader around the shoulders. The boy was grinning, but nevertheless looked embarrassed. "Adam Clavell," he responded, voice sounding low.

Julian looked him over. "Why are you in uniform?"

"I'm a new transfer; I didn't know we didn't have to wear uniforms for today. Then I just couldn't be bothered to change out of it." His badge was visible on his lapel. A Hanover boy.

"Yeah well…" Julian tried to catch his breath. "Thanks for the save, I guess."

"Movie stars lead rough lives…" Adam sighed, taking out a cigarette and placing it between his lips. His hands were pale and shaky, bare in the cold air as he lifted his lighter. Julian eyed him, and he seemed to notice. "Oh. Sorry. You don't like it when people smoke around you." He crushed the cigarette underfoot.

"How would you know that?" Julian raised an eyebrow.

Now Adam looked more embarrassed, lowering his gray eyes. "Sorry. I… I guess I'm also a fan of yours."

Julian snorted as he leaned on the brick. "Out of the frying pan and into the fire…" He looked at him with amusement. "You pulled me out here for a private interview?"

"Not really…" Adam answered with a shrug. "Besides, I already have your autograph. You don't remember but you gave me one way back in _Something Damaged_'s second season. It was the first time they announced you were going to be recurring."

Julian's lip curled into a smirk. "You _are_ my fanboy."

Adam looked chagrined. "I know, I'm creepy."

The actor now wondered which way this kid swung, since most guys were more interested in the show's cast of pretty girls. But did it really matter? "Anyway…" Julian got up and looked around. "The sea of raging hormones is gone." He pulled off the silly hat from his head and tossed it to Adam. "Thanks for the save. I'm going."

"Hey wait." Adam came up to him and pulled out a couple of sandwiches from his pockets and handed them to him. "You hadn't eaten. I saw those girls get the better of you. Here."

Roast turkey. Julian's favorite. Of course the fanboy knew what he liked. In spite of himself, he felt amused with this one. He nodded to him, handing him the other sandwich. "Let's go get something to drink with this."

Adam's face lit up. "Oh. Okay."

Julian emerged from the alley, trailed by Adam, who looked more awkward now that he wasn't galloping like a horse over the grounds, and as they walked, Julian sighted Kurt, Reed, and a fleet of strange kids he didn't recognize. Kurt was the only one sitting. Everyone else surrounded him.

"Hey, you mind if we make a stop at the information tent?" Julian muttered.

"Why?"

"A friend might like to know his 'diva' is getting cornered."

* * *

"And that's what happened?" Mercedes finally said, glowering down at Kurt after the long and tense story was finally finished.

"Just about," Kurt sighed deeply, arms crossed over his chest.

"…Okay then—now I just don't know which one of you I want to season and then grill first."

They had begun talking since they started walking, but they couldn't get to a spot in the Fair was quiet enough for them to actually talk about it all. Every time they would move to a new spot, something else would be happening there—one pitfall after another in the school-turned-labyrinth—until they sought shelter near an area in South and Main that wasn't as frequented.

Reed had arrived with a few more members of the McKinley Glee club (because honestly, how could he fail to spot Finn's head bobbing over the shoulders of the rest of the crowd?). In attendance at the gathering were Rachel, Mercedes, Santana and Finn, but the others remained missing-in-action in the fair. He also couldn't locate Blaine—who was probably among the frenzied first-aid group who were apparently fielding a stream of kids who ate something in the fair that had them running to the bathroom every fifteen minutes.

The whole group finally sought shelter by some unfrequented benches by the South and Main, and finally the events were fully recounted, including what happened in the hall, the cafeteria, and the punishment.

"So you're not performing either?" Rachel asked, sounding almost more sympathetic about the loss of limelight than the actual boyfriend fight. Kurt eyed her incredulously but said, "No, I'm not. Not one of us will."

"I think I should have a talk again with that Logan guy," Finn said, frown etched deep into his brow.

"No!" Kurt immediately said, staring hard at him. "Leave it alone. It's done."

"It's _not_ done until I say it is," Mercedes snapped. "Now I'm not bothered about tall, blonde and Abercrombie over there in the tent—I _am_ bothered about how stupid that fight between you and your man is."

Kurt winced slightly. The term "his man" had been applied to Blaine by his friend for the first time and it felt like an accusation. He glowered up at her and retorted, "I would've at least thought you all would be on _my_ side here. I think I made a pretty fair point—that he's set up a double standard and that I've done nothing worthy of being accused of adultery. Because compared to some of the antics you all have done…" He raised an eyebrow. At the merciless assault of the truth, several faces from his friends colored deep crimson, in varying degrees of discomfort and inward rage.

It was Finn who sighed and sat down next to him and said, "Look, we're not saying what he did was right either." He shrugged a little. "I mean, that _was_ a pretty jerk thing to do and he shouldn't have gone off on you like that."

"We're just saying that it won't be solved if either if you both don't just confront each other and tell him what you're telling us now," Mercedes said.

"Excuse me, hasn't he already done that?" Santana raised an eyebrow. "And this was the end result. What, you want them to have this little scream-fest in the middle of the Fair?"

"Then fine, it's time for you prizefighters to have a round two," Mercedes raised an eyebrow. "And this time, you're _both_ are going to have to listen to the other side and try to see it from the other person's end."

"I've been trying to see it from his end for the past days," Kurt grumbled, arms crossed over his chest.

"Then it should be easy." Mercedes glared.

"You did say you did want to talk," Reed added softly, looking at his friend. "And I'm pretty sure that Blaine wouldn't be the one to ignore you. I think he wants to see you too." He sat next to Kurt on the other side. "The day after you guys fought, I saw him standing outside his room like he was waiting for you. He looked…a little crushed when I told him you'd gone ahead."

Kurt glanced at him a little, then to his friends, who looked at him expectantly. "All right, but can I ask—is there some reason you all are bearing down at me like this?"

"Kurt, we've seen how happy you've been…" Rachel answered with a shrug. "We just want to make sure it stays that way?" She grinned.

"Honestly now," Mercedes raised an eyebrow. "You can't tell me that at least part of the reason you're griping right now is because it's Valentines' Day and you and him are fighting."

"I don't even _like_ Valentines' Day," Kurt pointed out.

"But you do like _him_, right?" Mercedes smirked when she was met with frigid silence and a glower from her friend. "All right, come on." She pulled him to his feet. "Let's go find him, and then we're going to get to the bottom of this."

"_Now_ can I go talk to that Logan dude?" Finn asked, still frowning. "To make sure he stays out of it?"

"No, Finn," Kurt sighed in exasperation. "I already screamed at him in the hall, I think he got the picture." The girls stared at him and he rolled his eyes. "One of my less fine moments, but I was in a mood at the time. I haven't actually seen him all day…"

"Well he did seem a little subdued when we saw him," Rachel said, blinking. "I suppose it worked."

Of course it would work, Kurt knew that. He had driven the point home with Logan that way because it felt like the only way to get him to listen. And maybe he should have been firm right at the beginning, but he'd just always felt that half of the reason Logan was so insistent was his condition. He had to start reminding himself that the reason was only part that—and that the rest of it was also the Logan who wanted his way and got it if he could.

But he did care. He cared about how this would affect the one who felt so strongly for him.

"Oh no you don't," Mercedes glared at him as she tugged him along. "I can tell what you're thinking of and you're not going to complicate this right now. First, we deal with you and Blaine, and then we deal with him."

"We ought to find the others too before they get into any trouble in this place—what happened to them, anyway?" Rachel muttered, looking around.

"We lost them after Britt started to pull Artie around the fair—overexcited." Santana rolled her eyes, but was on the phone. She made a double take as she looked at a text. "Wait. Looks like she's is in the first-aid tent with the others."

"What for?"

"How should I know? All she says is that Artie and Tina ate something bad."

Finn looked confused and concerned. "I don't get it—all I saw them eat are those chocolate chip cookies."

Kurt looked at him in surprise. "Cookies? What cookies?"

Puzzled, Finn pulled out a clear bag of cookies from his jacket pocket and held them out. "These." Kurt grabbed them and stared. They looked almost exactly like the ones he made for Windsor House. Finn added, "We got them from one of the blue-and-gold-stripe booths."

Kurt winced—hearing about anything came from blue-and-gold was hardly ever good news. And then Finn suddenly clutched his stomach like he'd been punched in the gut. "Actually…come to think of it… I haven't been feeling all that good since we—"

Mercedes cringed away as a loud burbling croak came from Finn's stomach. "Let's go," Kurt sighed deeply and took Finn's elbow and pulled him away. "First aid tent."

"Oh good," Rachel grinned. "You did say Blaine was on duty—we might run into him."

"I think I'd rather go to the bathroom…" Finn groaned, looking pale.

"No, let's go see if they can give you any kind of medication first…" Kurt insisted, pulling him along. Finn's stomach made another gruesome croak and the group immediately gave him a clear berth.

"Oh, Finn, that sounds really bad…" Rachel winced as Kurt led them back into the fair grounds. Finn was starting to groan like a dying cow.

It was at this point that Kurt spotted a familiar face in the crowd and immediately caught his attention. "Charlie! Hey, Charlie!" He waved to get his attention over the heads of the crowd.

The prefect, looking only slightly frazzled, looked up and ran up to him. "Hey, Kurt." He looked at Finn. "What's with this guy?"

"Another casualty of Tweedle war," Kurt grumbled. "It's cookies. It's the cookies, Chaz—you better get them off the booths."

"I highly doubt the Tweedles have anything to do with this—they freaking love your cookies," Charlie muttered, glancing at Finn as he unclipped his walkie talkie from his belt to alert the other prefect. "But Drew and Satoru might have decided to make their own batch and this is the end result."

"How many times do I have to tell you guys not to try and domesticate yourselves without proper supervision?" Kurt demanded.

"Don't tell _me_, Kurt, _they're_ the ones who—"

"Dude!" Finn almost yelled to Charlie. "Bathroom! Where?"

Charlie stared at him. "You're going to have to head into that building—" he pointed. "South and Main—all the port-a-potties are full—"

Finn tore away from Kurt and bolted so fast that one would've thought he was gunning for a last-second touchdown, barreling past people who didn't seem too bothered—the sign must have been common all day. "Aaand we've lost Finn," Santana snickered.

"Speaking of the Tweedles," Charlie frowned at Kurt. "The havoc they're making is that apparently they're throwing paint balloons at people, so you better watch yourselves. I think they're trying to advertise their paint-balloon booth as a form of Valentines' vengeance. Your boyfriend and his brother had been hit pretty badly."

Both Reed and Kurt winced. "Was it that bad?" Reed asked.

"Ask for yourself—there's Shane right now."

And there Shane was, having come full stop just several feet from them, mostly cleaned up but the clothes couldn't be helped—his clothes like Reed's paint smocks after a session of nonstop painting. His hair still had streaks of paint Shane looked startled possibly not expecting to find them right there. Kurt stared at his condition in disbelief.

"Oh Shane…" Reed stared, stunned, looking him up and down. "What _happened_?"

"This is actually the cleaned up version," Shane grumbled, looking chagrined. "I think I inhaled some of the stuff."

"And Blaine?" Kurt prompted, unable to stand the idea that Blaine would have to be running around looking worse than how Shane looked right now.

"I think he's in the first aid tent."

At this, Rachel and Mercedes scooped up Kurt's elbows. "In that case—off we go!" The two divas grinned as the third glowered at them before he clipped Reed's shoulder and nodded over to Shane. Reed turned crimson and gave him an "I _get it_," look as the McKinley students all but carried their ex-member off.

"Good luck," Charlie snorted, patting Reed on the shoulder before hurrying off as well, presumably to go yell at two errant cookie-makers, which left Shane and Reed standing together.

They looked at each other, and Reed turned red, looking away. "Um…"

"Uh…" Shane scratched the back of his head, looking awkward. "Should I begin groveling now?"

"What?" Reed blinked.

"I…pretty much messed up the last few days, I'm sorry. And I did say that I was supposed to be at your beck and call, and…I kind of wasn't, that was really idiotic of me and I just ended up upsetting you—I mean you haven't answered the last forty-eight calls I given you and…and…and I'm talking too much again." Shane dropped his face into his hand.

Reed glanced at him a little. "…should you be on your foot like that? You're limping a little bit."

"Me? Nah—I'm fine! I'm great, awesome—about that groveling—"

"Shane." Reed frowned.

"I've been focused on getting better all this time," Shane finally sighed. "I wanted to take you to the fair without crutches. But you know how much of a scatterbrain I am and how easily distracted I get—so I put away my phone so I could concentrate on just getting better and not pestering you."

He shook his head. "Should've thought _that_ through a little more. Didn't think about _you_ calling _me…_ I figured Blaine would be nagging me off the hook, but—_why am I still talking? _Feel free to shut me up anytime, Reed, seriously—"

Reed laughed a little, and Shane looked up with a spark of hope. "Hey, I made you laugh. Is that a good thing?"

The artist just rolled his eyes with a little smile. "You're really insane."

"Blaine tells me that a lot. But mostly these days it's you I'm crazy about so…"

Reed turned such a deep shade of crimson that he feared he'd burst a blood vessel. Shane was starting to grin again at the sight of it and Reed glared at him. "I was going to forgive you but if you're going to laugh at my expense—"

"Okay, sorry! Sorry!" Shane hurried up to him, grinning.

"Stop straining your foot—go sit down or something," Reed told him.

"My foot is fine," Shane waved it away. "I said I was going to take you to the fair, and I'm taking you."

"We're already _at_ the fair, Shane."

"Then let's go have fun!" Shane grabbed his hand and pulled him into the crowd. Reed couldn't help but smile at the younger Anderson's excitement—and he wondered why in the world some things couldn't be as easy as this all the time.

* * *

Charlie glanced up a little and he watched Shane and Reed go past. He smiled to himself. _That's one down I guess. _And then he turned his attention back on Wes, who was helping repair one of the archways that the Twins had bashed through in their earlier antics.

"Damn it, Chaz, we're working ourselves to death here!" Wes protested, flailing and nearly concussing the Windsor prefect with the hammer as he did. "How should I know where the Tweedles are? Did you check their paint balloon booth or their Hall of Mirrors?"

"I already checked." Why the Twins even had two attractions (and how they managed to run it) was beyond Charlie's understanding, especially since they apparently were at neither one. The paint-filled balloons were left alone in a giant basket on top of nearby booth setup. With the arsenal being completely left alone, Charlie was starting to worry that the Twins had decided to change tactics and do something else more damaging.

"They're not there, and they're not in the Hall of Mirrors they set up in Orion. I don't see why—that one's a little popular today. But the Hanover rollercoaster is still killing us. Their line is going up the bleachers." Charlie grumbled to himself. If they kept up that way, Hanover will score their third year of winning.

"Well I don't know," Wes shrugged. "They could be anywhere—they love the Fair. Personally, I think I ought to be out there looking for Kurt or Blaine. Much as I'd _love_ to be working my butt off on _Valentine's Day_…" he grimaced as he got up. "…It worries me that they've still not worked this all out."

"Well, Justin kept Logan locked away in the information booth—they should be able to talk it out without interruption if they had the chance," Charlie shrugged.

"Speaking of Justin…" Wes hammered the signboard to place. "Tell him that the new Hanover boy's looking for him."

This made Charlie look up. "The new Hanover boy? You mean Adam?"

"No, the other one," Wes wiped his hands on his jeans.

"Other one?" Justin said they recently had but one new person at Hanover, and that was the quiet Adam Clavell who they still haven't gotten to talk all that much.

But Wes shook his head, looking tired. "The short one. Foreign exchange. What was his name? Laurel?"

Charlie stared at Wes, aghast. "What?"

Wes looked around a little impatiently and pointed. "Him. Over there!"

Charlie turned to see a short boy in a Dalton uniform—one of the few who were in uniform—that seemed a little big for him, running past one of the booths, trying to look over people's heads. As he ran, he kept one hand on the newsboy cap on his head. It was very Oliver Twist.

Charlie shook his head with an exasperated sigh as he unclipped his walkie-talkie from his belt. "Hey Wes, why don't you take five or hang out with David or something?"

Wes muttered under his breath, "He's with Katherine. And I don't have a date. Didn't think it was polite to interrupt."

"Jealousy isn't flattering on you." Charlie evaded Wes' kick and spoke into the walkie as he strode off after the small form. "Hey, Hanover! You alive?"

The walkie crackled in response as Justin's voice carried through the channel. "_What?_"

Charlie was striding quickly through the crowd, eyes fastened onto the short "Hanover boy" who was looking around. "Where you at?"

"_By the food booths. I'm starving. You want anything?"_

He was getting closer to the boy now, who seemed distracted by the nearby ring toss booth. He shook his head with a sigh as he approached his quarry in silence.

"Me? I'd like you to get over here near the row of ring toss games."

"_Trouble?"_

"For you, yes."

He finally arrived at his oblivious little target. Charlie immediately reached out and grabbed the boy by the back of the blazer, pulling him back and up. "Hey!" came the outraged shriek—that was just too high pitched.

Charlie grinned, grip on the blazer tight as he knew that he was right on the money with his hunch. "The hat was a nice touch," he said casually.

"Let me go right this minute, Charlie!" piles of blonde hair came down as the cap got knocked down with all the furious struggling from the smaller form. A pair of blue eyes glared up at him, while the heart-shaped face was scarlet in humiliation.

"_Charlie, what's going on?"_ Justin demanded.

"Justin?" the caught one gasped in horror at the voice.

Charlie sighed and lifted the walkie again. "Come get your sister, Hanover."

"_Damn it, Laura!" _

"Look, little girl—" Charlie began.

"I'm only a little bit younger than you, thank you very much, and you'd better remember that," Laura Bancroft glared at him. "Now let go of me."

"All righty." Charlie dropped her unceremoniously—Laura landed on her feet and brushed herself off.

Justin sounded imperious. "_Laura, you stay right where you are—I'll be there in a bit and you'd better have a good explanation for this."_

The young girl looked completely frustrated and just crossed her arms, grumbling. "This is ridiculous, honestly. A girl can't go into a public event anymore?"

"You're supposed to be in London," Charlie reminded her. "And you know that. You can't just go across the Atlantic whenever you feel like it, Laura. And traveling by yourself can't be all that safe for you."

"I'm not a baby," Laura grumbled.

Charlie sighed at his best friend's little sister. This wasn't the first time Laura had mounted an attempt to infiltrate Dalton, and one wonders why her parents even let her run around so freely for someone who was supposed to be at school. Maybe she just missed her brother. He raised the walkie talkie again. "Hanover, on second thought, stay there, we'll go to you."

He then nodded to Laura. "Come on. Let's get you some lunch first before Justin reads you the riot act again."

Laura brightened up immediately—she could usually count on Charlie to be a little less uptight than her brother. "Oh, all right. Can we have those cookies that everyone seems to be eating?"

"No."

* * *

"What do you know," Dwight stared, watching Charlie walk off with the short blonde girl who appeared underneath the hat. "Charlie got himself a 'talking flower'."

"Don't even," The Tweedles chorused with grin. "That's Laura Bancroft."

"Bancroft—Justin's sister?"

"Uh huh. We like her. She's nuts." They both now looked at the Hunter who had been skulking around the fair as though he loathed it and its heart-crammed goodness with all of his soul. "What about you, little Knight? Not galloping after a fair maiden of your own?"

"If it were that easy, I'd be doing it right now," Dwight retorted. "But no, duty calls. I've detected some pretty heavy bad vibes coming from certain points in this fair and I have every intention of seeking them out and exterminating them for the good of everyone in here. Which is why I brought you."

The Tweedles stared at him. Dwight just rolled his eyes and turned the Twins to the front—pointing towards the stage area where currently, the dance competition was happening.

In the grand tradition of trying to see the craziest and borderline most embarrassing thing a person would do for the sake of giving their significant others a dazzling Valentines' Day, a few boys had chosen to hold an event in the Fair that would have people out dance one another to win an all expense paid dinner date at a rather pricey French restaurant. A good number pairs were trying out (most of the boys were dragged on by their girlfriends who were dying to have a fancy dinner date)—but there was definitely a disturbance in the Force, as Dwight had said.

He had happened to be in the area when disaster struck. First appeared a pair of African-American teenagers appeared, and they were the first people to actually ask for a certain song to be played for their dance. This wasn't against the rules, and the stage crew consented.

As Jet's "She's a Genius" started to blast out of the speakers, the pair began to effectively _slaughter_ all the other pairs that were currently in the running. They danced without a slick of self-consciousness and they could definitely move. The applause they garnered knocked the other pairs out of the game.

As a crowd slowly formed to watch the pair of dancers, they were "confronted" by a different pair—this time one with a pretty blonde girl and a lithe boy in cargo pants and massive sneakers. They confronted the two with bright grins, not the least bit intimidated. And as the first two danced, the crowd cried out in amazement as the new pair matched their movements exactly before going off to their own style of dance—one that involved some rather acrobatic moves. The blonde girl was particularly good and the strong boy with her could easily toss her into the air in flips.

The first invading Pure Energy pair (Devon and Shay) were laughing at the two acrobats (Leo and Mia) and didn't seem the least bit intimidated. They countered the two with a succession of freestyle hiphop dance moves before both pairs ended up going at the exact same dance moves.

By now Dwight had long since recognized who exactly these kids were that were invading the dance floor. He'd seen the video during New Years' after all. He'd found the movements familiar. If he hadn't been sure before that these were the kids from Pure Energy, he was sure now that he'd seen the looks on the Tweedles' faces.

"What are they doing here…?" Dwight hissed. "Are they spying? Are they spying on us?"

"Oh this isn't spying…" Evan said with a small, cool smirk on his face, watching the two pairs on the floor move.

"This is a challenge, I think," Ethan smirked similarly.

"Excuse me…" A tall brunette girl pushed past the Tweedles with a smile—she glanced at them as though she reserved that look exactly for them—and she headed straight through the crowd and to the pairs in the middle of the floor. Without hesitation, she performed a series of back handsprings that landed her into the middle of the group and she danced in the middle of them, taking the lead and seamlessly integrating herself into their dance moves. The crowd cheered and hooted as the baffled stage crew stared on, not sure of what exactly to do at this sudden invasion of dancers.

As Brie, the leader, performed a particularly complicated move with Shay and Mia before she threw her hair back and smirked directly at the Tweedles.

The Tweedles smirked a little more. "Oh, so it's going to be like that, huh…?"

"What are you talking about?" Dwight asked.

"They're showing off _juuust_ a little bit,_" _said Evan, turning around with his twin and striding off.

"Hey wait!" Dwight protested. "You're just going to leave and let them go on like that? They've got to be challenging you!"

"Oh we're not going to take it lying down," Ethan assured him. "Stay there, Dwight, try to keep them in your crosshairs if you can—we'll be right back."

"What? What are you going to do?"

The Tweedles only smiled. "Gather up some Momeraths, of course."

* * *

Derek ran past the Tweedles—he _was_ concerned about those devious grins on their faces, but he was far more concerned about saving his own skin. He rushed past the people on the fairgrounds until he spotted someone familiar and _flung_ himself at him.

"Derek, what the hell?" Julian demanded as his obviously bigger friend was currently seeking shelter behind _him_ of all people, clutching onto Julian's coat. Adam looked a little alarmed, but Derek immediately said, "Jules! I swear to god, you have to _save_ me—"

"_Now_ what did you do?" Julian snorted, raising an eyebrow. "Tell me it's not Tabitha."

"If it were _only_ Tabitha. Heather and Louise saw me already. And I already heard that a couple of my exes are freaking haunting the place. I'm on the edge here, man!"

"Who is this…?" Adam asked, looking at Julian in confusion.

"Dead man walking, apparently," Julian pursed his lips at his friend, who was still clinging onto him. He rolled his eyes with feigned sage-like patience. "This is _really_ pathetic, D, just thought you should know."

"Man, don't even try to lecture me—I _saw_ you running for your life earlier." Derek then nodded to Adam. "Was you, yeah? Nice save, Hanover kid."

"Thanks," Adam stared, still a little baffled at him. "Um…my name's Adam, though."

"Whatever," Derek looked back to Julian, who he was forced to follow as the actor had already resume movement. "Where are you going? Why are you in the open where you're this giant target for every fangirl in the fair?"

"We're not antelope," Julian retorted. "I'm going back to the information tent, and tell Oh Tempestuous One sitting there that a certain someone he's obsessing over is being ganged up on by a ragtag bunch of kids from some other school."

Derek looked a little confused for a moment as he followed, but then he said, "You mean Kurt, right? Oh, those kids are probably the ones from his old school." He snorted. "They really like getting involved even though he doesn't go there anymore."

"How sickeningly sweet," Julian grumbled. "Nothing to worry about then?"

"Unless you call them being on Team Blaine a problem," Derek snorted.

"Well, it's not _me_ who has the problem, then…"

"Please. It _is_ your problem."

"Is there something I'm missing here?" Adam asked, a little confused, but the two ignored him.

"But you should know something," Derek said, looking a little doubtful, shoving his hands into his jacket pockets. "Logan said something to me about his issues with Kurt earlier in the tent."

Adam looked up. "Logan…? Logan Wright? The Stuart prefect? The one who had that big fight in the hall and the cafeteria, right?"

"Wow, new kid, you've really gotten wind of everything pretty fast," Julian grumbled sarcastically.

"Come on, who _hasn't_ heard about that?" Derek snorted. "And he elbowed you in the face, when you were trying to hold him back, you were bleeding."

Julian laughed hollowly as Adam stared in shock. Derek then shook his head and grabbed Julian's elbow. "But anyway—this is important. After you stormed off in a huff at the tent, Logan said—"

"Speak of the devil." Julian looked up at the tall form now advancing at them from the direction of the information booth. Devil indeed—even Derek was startled at the dark expression on Logan's face. He looked furious and he was storming directly towards them, glaring at Julian in particular.

Baffled, the actor stared up at him as Logan finally reached them. Without a moment's pause, he unleashed wrath on Julian. "What the hell is wrong with you?" he demanded.

"Now what do you want, you raving lunatic?" Julian snapped back harshly, glaring at him and practically exasperated. "Until now I've been a football field's distance from you!"

"I thought you were supposed to be inconspicuous?" Logan almost yelled at him. "There's a maelstrom in the information tent, all your freaking fangirls are _demanding_ that we produce you from wherever hellhole you've been hiding! So much for worrying about getting seen—they said that you've been running around signing autographs and now they all want one!"

"And?" Julian raised an eyebrow coldly. "This is a problem because…?"

"Because it ends up being _my damn problem_!" Logan exploded. "I've got enough people freaking out about the stupid food poisoning incidents from those loonies at Windsor without _you_ parading your primadonna self all over the fairground—"

"Now hold on, Logan—" Derek began but Logan directed a blaze of rage to him as well. "And you! All five of your girlfriends and exes have already been to the damn booth looking for you! Shouldn't you just man up and let them throttle you already?"

Derek glowered at him. "Hey, you've been in a bad mood all morning—

"Try _year_," Julian snorted and Logan narrowed his eyes at him.

"—and you don't have to take it out on us!" Derek snapped.

"Well it's not like you're making it any easier for me!" Logan hissed furiously. He turned to Julian and fumed. "You could've lain low but you couldn't help yourself, could you? You just _had_ to prance around."

"Hey wait a minute," Adam stepped forward, frowning. "This isn't fair—"

"You noticed?" all three Stuarts rounded on him a moment before turning back to one another. Adam gaped at them and Bailey materialized at his elbow. "New kid! Psst!" And he pulled him away from the three who were squabbling.

"Stay out of that one," Bailey hissed.

"What's going on here?" Adam demanded, gesturing to the three Stuarts.

"Leave it alone," Bailey begged. "Seriously—you don't want to get involved in the crossfire."

"He's yelling at Julian for no—"

"You have to let them work it out—"

Another outburst from Logan made them all look up. "I don't _care_ what you have to do!" Logan yelled at Julian. "I just don't need this right now, Jules—I really don't! I've got enough on my mind without you having to make it harder for me!"

"It's always about _you_!" Julian nearly screamed at him. He was flushed and furious, more out of control than Bailey or Derek had ever seen him. "I may be the big celeb around here, Logan, but you're the one who's always in center stage! Outside _and_ in your head! So you can just _go to hell_—because I'm not catching this anymore!" Julian backed away, shaking his head. "Screw friendship if you like to call it that—I'm sick of all this. I'm just your little tow-along anyway."

"Julian!" Derek protested.

"I'm out!" Julian yelled back. "I'm so _out_ of this whole thing." He glanced back at Logan, but he looked more disgusted with himself than with anything. "I can't believe I stuck around for this." He strode off, pushing his dark glasses up so hard they nearly cut the bridge of his nose. "Adam! Let's go."

"Don't do it, you don't want to get in it, seriously—" Bailey told him, but Adam was already gone. He glared at Logan darkly and followed after Julian.

Aghast, Derek looked at Logan in pure, unadulterated disbelief. "What is _wrong_ with you, man? You don't spare anyone, do you?"

Logan was more stunned than anyone, surprisingly. "I was just telling him that—"

"Yeah, you were just telling us how hard it is for you," Derek said sarcastically. He shook his head. "Great job. Awesome. You really drove the point home." He shoved Logan once before walking off.

"And now _you're_ going?" Logan asked.

"You know, Logan…" Derek turned around and opened his arms, "You know how you said back in the tent that you wanted to change? Here's a nice big hint: stop driving friends away. Because apparently we're the only people who can _stand_ you—and you're losing us. Him more than me. But that doesn't really make a difference with you, right? Or does it…?" Derek turned around and stomped off after Julian.

Bailey watched them go, crestfallen, and looked to Logan, who stared after them. He walked up to him, worried. "Logan…"

"Don't, Bailey. Don't."

"Hey, right now—I'm all you've got," Bailey said, glancing up at him. He looked apologetic. "Logan. Nobody said it was going to be easy. But…you know, they could've helped. That's all they're trying to do. Even their patience has a limit, though. And I think you pushed a little too far this time."

Logan just turned and walked back to the tent. "I apparently do that a lot." He moved his fingers through his hair, as though trying to get his thoughts together. "They leave just like everyone else."

"That's the thing, though?" Bailey smiled. "They'll be back. They're your friends."

"Didn't you hear Julian? He's done."

"When's that been ever true?" Bailey grinned, hands in his pockets. "Think about it. They've been your friends forever, haven't they? Or didn't you notice?"

Logan paused and then glanced back to him. Bailey smiled more, knowing he's at least given him something to think about. "I have to go back to work…but you, Tipton—you really have to stop working so hard to keep everything calm and happy."

"I'm not a Hanover, but I like harmony in Stuart House," the other boy responded. Logan just waved him off and left.

Bailey stood, watching him curiously with a bit of a smile. All things considered, this wasn't the Stuart trio's best moment, but it wasn't the _worst_ situation they've had either. Bailey thought the situation over and decided that if he actually pushed the right buttons, he might be able to get the whole mess sorted out. If he still had time, that is.

"Bailey!"

A pair of chipper twins immediately grabbed his shoulders as the shorter boy yelled in surprise when they tugged him away without preamble.

"We need you to take over the stage's sound controls!" Evan declared.

"What for?" Bailey stared.

"Just do it—we've got some retaliation to carry out!" Ethan informed him with a big grin.

"Is whatever you're planning on doing legal in the state of Ohio?" Bailey asked immediately.

"Fairly sure," they assured him.

"Okay, then…"

* * *

"Just so you know, people could _sue_ you for intentionally poisoning people," Kurt glared, arms crossed, at Drew and Satoru, who were standing sheepishly in front on the first aid tent. "What were you thinking?"

"It wasn't _intentional_, that's flat," grumbled Satoru.

"How hard could it be to make cookies?" Drew muttered.

"You don't make cookies using laboratory equipment!" Kurt shot back, wondering why, for a pair of apparently incredibly brilliant young men, this little fact escaped them. "And you don't put "love serum" that you yourselves haven't even tested yet!"

"And your friends make twenty four." Blaine sighed as he came out of the first aid tent, looking tired and, as Kurt had expected, still a little paint streaked. His hair was washed out at least, the curls free of product. "We're going to need a bigger tent—the clinic is already full, according to Ms. Summers. And I don't know how many your stepbrother ate but he looked like a pretty bad case."

"Considering that it's Finn, I'm imagining about a couple of bagfuls." Kurt rolled his eyes.

Inside the tent, Mike was holding up Tina's head from a bucket. Her reaction to the cookies was a little different: she'd been nauseated and was throwing up. "Well at least for some people, it's all coming up the other way." He winced at another retch from his girlfriend.

"Oh Asian god, kill me," Tina groaned, leaning against Mike, who patted her. "I never want to eat cookies again."

Brittany just returned to the scene with Artie, her wheeling him back to the tent, with Artie looking very pale but smiling wanly. "I think Artie's going to live," Brittany said with a triumphant smile. "He took a long time in the bathroom but I think he got rid of all the bad stuff."

"Congratulations," Finn grumbled, being forced by Rachel to finish a whole bottle of water to prevent him from becoming dehydrated.

"Oh god…" Santana winced and sprayed air freshener over them all.

"Santana, don't do that—oh…" Kurt groaned as the sufferers in the tent caught a whiff of the spray and Tina began to puke again.

"This is insane," Blaine said, looking around as the trouble in the first-aid tent. "I don't think we've had food poisoning this bad before."

"You mean this has happened before?" Kurt narrowed his eyes at him.

"Basically every year something bad that's food-related happens…" Blaine sighed. "But not this bad. The fair regulars usually know to steer clear of the food. I knew I was in for bad news when Charlie put me in this duty."

There was a pause as the two of them realized that they were actually having a fairly decent and easy conversation that had absolutely nothing to do with the disagreement the two of them had been having. Mercedes was smirking from where she stood, just waiting for them to realize this. The two of them stared at each other for a long moment before they ended up looking away out of awkwardness.

"…can we go now?" Drew asked tentatively.

"No," both Blaine and Kurt said immediately, frowning.

It was at this point that the Tweedles came skidding in—one with Shane and Reed in tow, the other with David and Katherine (followed by a very indignant Wes) in tow.

"Hello, friends plus talking flowers!" the Tweedles chorused, looking wildly excited, in levels that assured everyone who knew them well that they were up to something again.

"This better be good, you two," David glared, looking annoyed and peeling Katherine away from one twin.

"You nearly decapitated Reed!" Shane protested.

"We're calling an emergency performance," The Tweedles declared without preamble. "Come with us immediately, all of you. Including you guys!" They nodded to the McKinley people as though they were all the authority necessary.

"We're not Warblers," Rachel raised an eyebrow.

"We know," said Ethan.

"But we need you," nodded Evan.

"Just for today."

"Because you can sing."

"And dance."

"And very well at that."

"Well…" Rachel smirked a little triumphantly as the McKinley kids preened a little bit. "Of course movement is one of our specialties."

"We need Mike and the Cheerios especially," the Twins said. Evan turned to Shane. "You too. Because you can dance."

"And Katherine!" said Ethan with a grin. "Because she's still the best dancer in Dobry Hall."

A series of protests rose up from the entire group, asking mainly if the twins had lost their minds—which was something asked on such a day-to-day basis that the twins didn't find it at all offensive and more of a compliment than anything. The twins waited for them to calm down enough to get their words in. "We're serious, and we don't have time. We need to answer to a challenge. Stat."

"Katherine shouldn't be straining herself!" David protested.

"No, I can do it," Katherine blinked, looking a little startled.

"And Shane's foot!" Reed exclaimed.

"I can dance on it if I try," Shane answered.

"You're both not helping!" David and Reed chorused as the two dancers winced.

"Give us _one good reason_ to back you up on this impromptu madness," Wes asked, arms crossed over his chest.

At this point, the twins' phone rang. Evan was the one holding it and he put it on speaker phone when he saw that the caller was Dwight.

"_You guys, __**where are you**__?_" The hunter hissed. "_They're still there—those New York kids are totally killing the few who've already tried to step forward! They're starting to sing __**and**__ dance! And that tall girl—she's asking for challengers! The audience is already getting swayed to their side! I don't know how you all are going to beat them, but you better come up with something or they're going to kick your asses up and down the fairgrounds!_"

Silence in the tent. They all looked at each other.

The Twins very calmly looked up at the rest of them. "A whole bunch of New Yorkers just kicked in the front door of our Regional house. They came all this way and we shouldn't disappoint. Well…?"

Kurt pulled himself up to his best height and raised an eyebrow. "Well. That makes it a little different." He glanced to New Directions. "Team up just this once?" he proposed to the group around him.

Rachel and Finn looked at each other as co-captains of New Directions, and then to the others who stared back at them, and nodded. They looked at the Twins. "We're in."

Then Tina puked. Finn's stomach made another croak and he had to race off again, narrowly missing Artie and Brittany as he barreled off.

"Go—go on without us," Tina groaned, pushing Mike forward. Artie nudged Brittany along. "Yeah, get out of here and go get them, girl. I got to go to the bathroom…" he looked ill again.

"We'll take him," Drew suggested. "You guys better go."

"We're late already!" the Twins grabbed Brittany and raced off. Shane raced off after them and Katherine, shrugging at David with a grin, followed, and forcing her boyfriend and the best friend to follow. Reed sighed and did the same—the rest of the newly-formed Warbler-New Directions combine racing off.

"I still don't think this is a good idea," Reed hissed as he ran, stumbling a little, alongside Shane and Kurt. "What the heck are we supposed to do?"

"Do it the Windsor way, I guess…" Blaine answered. "We wing it. We always wing it."

As the twins pulled Brittany along, they both looked at her with bright grins. "Hey talking flower," Evan said with a devious smile.

"…do you dance to Ke$ha?" Ethan asked.

Brittany, not opposed to being pulled along by the playful blondes, looked puzzled but smiled. "I like Ke$ha. I said that I was going to perform a song of hers once…" She glanced at the other McKinley kids, who just stared at her, baffled.

"Well good, because you're singing with us," smirked the twins.

* * *

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" Mia hissed again as she passed Brie in the dance. The boys, Devon and Leo, were preoccupied with whipping the crowd to a frenzy as the group danced together again. "I mean, we're catching a whole lot more attention than—"

_There's nothing left to say; Don't waste another day_

_Just you and me tonight; Everything will be okay…_

"What are they going to do?" Brie hissed to her as she swirled across the dance area. "_Sway_ to the beat on their pretty leather shoes? Please…"

"The both of you please shut up—and sing!" Shay snapped, her big performance-level smile still perfect on her face as she leapt into the middle and was immediately picked up by her singing boyfriend who danced along with her.

_If it's alright with you then it's alright with me_

_Baby let's take this time let's make new memories…_

The group swept across the floor, their movements fluid and voices harmonizing together into the chorus, confident and unflinching, basking in the glow of the crowd's appreciation. The boys took the lead of the song, clearly enjoying their time in the spotlight while they had it.

_Do you remember…_

_Do you remember…_

_Do you remember…_

_All of the times we had…_

Brie changed positions on the dance floor again and finally caught sight of a pair of tall blond boys smirking right across her. The same ones she'd seen earlier, and ones she'd already identified as Warblers, the twin pair.

She immediately perked up at the sight of them. Unlike the other Dalton students, these two didn't look at all apprehensive—in fact, they looked deeply amused. She raised an eyebrow but kept performing.

_Do you remember…_

_Do you remember…_

_Do you remember…_

_All of the times we had…_

"Well they're good." Mike whispered as he stood with the others.

"Really good…" Wes nodded a little, surprised.

"Yeah…" Rachel shrugged and smirked. "But we're better."

"Hang back, dwarf," Santana replied, pushing past Rachel with a cool smile as she and Brittany stood together. "Let the pros end these posers."

"Are you sure you're going to be all right?" Reed asked Shane apprehensively as the taller boy tightened his boot laces. But Shane only smirked. "Hey if we beat these guys, I take you to rollercoaster?"

Reed turned pale. "Hall of Mirrors—that's it."

"I'll take it."

"I still don't think—" David began but was promptly shut up by his girlfriend's look. Katherine then grinned. "Stop thinking. Focus on the fact that you're going to have to show those guys up. They obviously think you can't dance."

"Well they're not going to know what hit them," Wes smirked as he stepped up beside David. "They just crashed the wrong territory."

Kurt looked at Blaine, who looked back at him and nodded. Kurt glanced to the sound control area of the stage and grinned as Bailey caught his eye and grinned. The Stuart Warbler ran to his fellow House members and unceremoniously booted one of them off the controls. "Ex_cuse_ me!" he grinned.

_Let's bring it back (Bring it back!)_

_Let's bring it back (Bring it back!)_

_Let's bring it back (Bring it back!)_

_Let's bring it back (Bring it back!)…_

Pure Energy kept dancing, but they knew something was happening when the music began to change—warping out of their music like a DJ's remix. The crowd looked around in surprise at the sudden change.

The twins strode forward to the dance area, flanked by the group they had gathered, and the Dalton students who recognized them cheered, realizing that they were intending on performing. The emcee on the stage yelled, "We've got challengers!"

"All right, Warblers…" Brie smirked as she stepped back a little.

The twins grinned. "What do you mean Warblers?" Ethan asked innocently. "We're just having a little bit of fun, aren't we?"

Surprised, the Pure Energy group stared at the pair and the currently inconspicuous students behind them. "Huh?" Brie stared.

"Don't be so serious." Evan grinned.

On cue, Bailey blasted the music from the speakers as the twins began to sing and dance in unison.

_My first kiss went a little like this—and twist—and twist—_

The twins separated as Brittany slid forward, flipping her long blonde hair back with a grin, body pumping to the beat.

_Well __**my**__ first kiss went a little like this—and twist—and twist—!_

Brittany gave them one more blown kiss before she rejoined the twins. The crowd started to burst into cheers as the twins and Brittany started to dance together, Brittany's devastating dance moves drawing the crowd's attention. She was alternating dancing between the two boys who moved perfectly together. The twins took the thread as the music pounded, the crowd clapping to the music:

_I said no more teachers and no more books_

_I got a kiss under the bleachers hoping that nobody looks—_

_Lips like licorice—tongue like candy_

_Excuse me miss, but can I get you out your panties?_

There were screams of laughter from the crowd as Brittany pretended to look shocked and pushed both boys back—revealing the rest of them moving in.

The entire group now moved forward—the twins standing in front of them and performing a series of movements in perfect synchronization for a few moments before the rest of them took up the steps and started to copy the dance along with them, the twins and Brittany singing with smirks on their faces at their stunned opponents' faces.

_In the back of the car—_

_On the way to the bar—_

_I got you on my list (I got you on my list)_

_At the foot of the stairs—_

_With my fingers in your hair—_

_Baby, this is it—_

The crowd burst into cheers as Shane and Mike dived forward past the twins and started to freestyle. Shane swirled ahead in front in a series of complicated dance moves—his footwork barely even hindered by his injury. Mike literally somersaulted over him as Shane slid down onto the ground and the crowd exploded. Mike landed flawlessly on his feet in a grin, body grooving to the music.

The rest of them started to chorus with the twins, dancing along with them and letting the music set the wild pace that drove the thickening crowd into a frenzy.

_She won't ever get enough—_

_Once she gets a little touch—_

_If I had it my way, you know that I'd make her say:_

_Ooooooh_

_Ooooooh_

Mike and Shane split apart in dives and David literally backflipped into the dance floor. The crowd exploded in cheers as David turned behind him just in time to catch Katherine, flipping her over him in a swinger's move before twirling her back towards the other girls.

_She won't ever get enough—_

_Once she gets a little touch—_

_If I had it my way, you know that I'd make her say:_

_Ooooooh_

_Ooooooh_

The boys danced forward in a firing squad line as they sang and they jumped backwards as the whole line of girls stepped forward, Santana snapping her fingers at the Pure Energy group:

_Well __**my**__ first kiss went a little like this—and twist—and twist—!_

The Twins whirled around and grinned to the rest of them. "S'all yours—" they whispered, stepping back. As the music continued to beat and the group sang, they formed a small semicircle, giving way to the main dancers of the group.

Mike made a handspring into the center and started to freestyle again. Brittany slid towards him and the two of them danced together in a manner reminiscent of their spectacular Sectionals win. As Mike stepped back, Shane moved forward alongside him as Santana took her spot next to Brittany, the group of them dancing together.

_In the back of the car—_

_On the way to the bar—_

_I got you on my list (I got you on my list)_

_At the foot of the stairs—_

_With my fingers in your hair—_

_Baby, this is it—_

The boys invaded their space again—this time with the Twins scooping Santana up and throwing her into the air. The crowd burst into cheers at the basket toss as the twins caught the brunette and the whole team drove forward again, forcing the Pure Energy kids back—the combined group now had full control of the stage. The audience went crazy.

The boys' movements flung themselves forward into the dance, taking the Twins' lead as they all sang.

_She won't ever get enough—_

_Once she gets a little touch—_

_If I had it my way, you know that I'd make her say:_

_Ooooooh_

_Ooooooh_

The girls were led by Brittany forward again, but they paired off with the boys, who bumped with them to the beat. The Mike and Shane took after David's lead and sprang forward as the twins grabbed Brittany and Katherine, flipping the girls right over their heads. The whole group danced together amidst the deafening music and the screams of the audience. Kurt and Blaine grinned at each other as they danced with Rachel and Mercedes, the whole group trying to keep up with the Twins' lead.

_She won't ever get enough—_

_Once she gets a little touch—_

_If I had it my way, you know that I'd make her say:_

_Ooooooh_

_Ooooooh_

The twins catapulted Brittany forward between them—she tucked and rolled and then splayed out in a perfect split. The crowd roared as Shane and Mike leapt over the Twins' lowered, linked hands—David twirling Katherine one last time—before the twins grab Brittany's hands and pull her up between them in a flourish.

_She won't ever get enough—_

_Once she gets a little touch—_

_If I had it my way, you know that I'd make her say—!_

The fairgrounds erupted. Applause rang from all directions and even the boys at the control were jumping up and down, wildly elated. The Warbler-New Directions combined group grabbed at each other, leaping up in excitement.

Pure Energy was rendered more than a little speechless. Mia glared at Brie enough to singe eyebrows. "Sway, huh? Where the hell did all those stunts come from?" she demanded.

Brie glowered at her as Devon added, "Well hell, they've got something packing."

"Oh shut up," Shay muttered at her boyfriend.

The Twins were laughing, hugging Brittany, before they turned back to the Pure Energy kids and shrugged as though to say, "Lighten up!"

The emcee, laughing hard from onstage—possibly at the stricken look on the Pure Energy kids' faces or the fact that Bailey's own hysterical laughter was infectious—waved to the crowd. "All right now! So what did you guys think of that? And here we thought this dance party was going to be a little boring! Who would you say is the winner?"

The crowd roared in answer as the McKinley and Dalton group just continued to laugh at each other. The Twins waved to the emcee to catch his attention. They were smirking. "We're not here to compete. Just having fun."

Kurt raised an eyebrow at the twins, but he saw what they meant when the tallest girl from the Pure Energy group looked as though she'd just swallowed lemon juice. The Twins smirked and waved the emcee towards the other group with shrugs. "Let's not be so _serious_ all the time…" they said casually.

Kurt smirked and waved at the New Yorkers before he and the entire group departed the dance floor amidst confusion and claps of encouragement from the whole crowd.

Brie bristled at the sight of them and tossed her hair as she turned around. "Let's go."

"What? After all that, we're just going to leave?" Leo stared at her.

"We've seen enough." Brie strode off, fuming to the tips of her hair. Mia and Shay looked at each other and hurriedly followed after her, a little concerned, but Brie said nothing, too busy running everything through again.

All right. Maybe this was what Tom wanted them to see—this was what Tom sent her to Ohio for. Because that—she glanced back to the group of boys and girls still grinning at each other—was _definitely_ was something worth looking into.

* * *

"Ow…ow…ow…"

Reed frowned at Shane, who was limping a little more openly now. "I told you. Now sit."

"You're kidding—I feel great!" Shane breathed, and he flopped onto a bench. Reed only rolled his eyes as Blaine smacked a cold water bottle onto the side of Shane's face. The younger brother was thrilled. "Yay!" He drank as though he were from a drought.

The whole group had taken shelter away from the crowds again, although it was clear that some of them were basking in the popularity their little stunt had earned them. They were rejoined by the ailing members of New Directions who seemed to have somewhat recovered.

Mike bent down from where Tina was hugging him and shook hands with Shane with a grin. "Those were some great moves."

"Right back at ya," Shane grinned weakly. "Though the last time I tried bouncing around like that, I think I broke a mirror."

"You guys were great, I heard," Artie grinned up at Brittany, who was sitting on his lap again. "It's too bad we didn't get to see it all that well—what with the puking and the running to the bathroom and all." He shot a look at Finn, who was still looking pale from where he was standing, trying to keep Rachel from being a little too enthusiastic—Todd, Dwight's roommate, was a reporter for the Dalton newspaper and was planning on putting the little stunt into the Fair coverage and was interviewing her. The McKinley star was only too happy to oblige in more than a few comments.

Wes was fanning Katherine with a folder he'd found somewhere, the girl also seated on the bench where Shane was. "You all right, Kathy?" he asked worriedly.

"I'm good…" she grinned tiredly up at him, catching her breath. "Best Valentines ever. Best fun I've had in a _really_ long time too…"

Wes smiled down at her. "Well, don't force it too far. David's going to freak more than he already has." He glanced to where David was a short distance away, getting another bottle of water for her.

Katherine followed his gaze, then back at him. After a contemplative moment, she smiled at him. "Hey. I hardly ever get to thank you for looking after him."

Wes gave her an incredulous expression. "What are you talking about? That's kind of my job—especially since you can't look after that scatterbrain twenty-four-seven." He grinned. "So when are you booking back into Dobry? It might make him feel a little easier if you were nearer."

"I do miss the girls," Katherine laughed a little. "I might go back…it depends on my mom." But she looked at him. "But—how about you, though? Are _you_ okay?"

"I'm fine—why are you asking?"

Katherine considered him. "…I just figured you were a little down. You're not exactly your usual self lately. Something bothering you?"

Wes beamed. "Oh yeah, definitely. I'm surrounded by these nutjobs." And he jerked his thumb to the Windsors. "_They're_ my bother."

"Mmm…" Katherine nodded a little, and David arrived with the water. "Here," he said, smiling at her. She took it from him and smiled. "I'm glad to see _you_ can still dance."

David burst out laughing. "Well I was dancing with you—I can't look too out of my league."

"Where did the twins go?" Blaine asked, looking around at their haphazard group—the twins had evaporated into thin air again. Brittany, who was leaning her cheek on Artie's head, said, "They were following a talking flower… They said she has nice stems."

Artie gave her a look. "I think they meant she had nice _legs, _though…"

"No, they said stems."

"Ah, same thing."

Santana raised an eyebrow but looked intrigued. "Those weird twins never stop, do they?" she commented, hoping to spot the terrible twosome.

"Not since I've known them," Kurt sighed long-sufferingly. "Well at least they're terrorizing other people and not us at the moment."

Blaine laughed a little. "Give them time. They'll eventually be back."

Kurt laughed a little and he and Blaine ended up staring at each other. This kept up long enough for Santana to groan and roll her eyes. "For crying out loud, this unresolved sexual tension is stifling the rest of us—go make out already or something."

"Santana!" Finn burst out as the pair immediately stared at her, scarlet and shocked. Santana just tsked and rolled her eyes. "Oh please, you were all thinking it."

Wes very carefully put down the folder he was previously fanning Katherine with. "Well! So much for the entertainment—David, Katherine, how about that Hanover rollercoaster?"

"Sounds _great_!" Katherine grabbed David and Wes' hands, and immediately started dragging them off, trying very hard not to smile as she did so.

"Shane! Hall of Mirrors?" Reed said with big meaningful eyes at Shane—although the act was completely unnecessary: Shane leapt to his feet as though his ailment completely evaporated. The younger Anderson, grinning from ear to ear, actually swept Reed up in a bridal carry, winked at his brother and raced off, ignoring Reed's indignant commands to be let down immediately.

"Well, if we're not needed here…" Artie grinned as Brittany laughed, wheeling him away, Santana rolling her eyes with a "finally…" as she stalked off with them. Mike and Tina followed suit—but mainly to find Tina another garbage pail to barf out of.

"Can we just say…" Rachel began, but Finn grabbed her hand and tugged her off to the direction of some other fair attraction or another.

It was Mercedes who left last, and she bestowed Blaine a truly withering look for a moment before directing that same expression (on less intense levels) to her friend, who just gave her a pained smile in return. As Mercedes finally strolled off, brushing her hands off as she did so, Blaine gave Kurt a look and waited until his eyes met his again.

"So…" Kurt nodded slowly. "It looks like we're to talk about this or risk being dismembered by two different Glee clubs."

"It would appear that way…" Blaine nodded, pressing his lips together in a grim line.

It was fortunate that the others had left as the awkward silence that followed could've sent the group throwing their hands up in exasperation. But it was Blaine who broke the silence first. "Listen…I think…I think I went a little out of line."

"A little." Kurt responded with the lightest shrug of the shoulders. But he gave him a long glance. "I wasn't _completely_ oblivious, I think… Maybe I did consider that it would…aggravate his situation somewhat…"

Blaine just nodded, thumbs hooked to his pockets and looking a little awkward. He sighed and shook his head. "…what happened anyway…?"

"What do you mean?"

He sighed deeply. "…how did we get here, I mean? Because…there are some parts of it that I can't remember anymore. I mean…I don't see the point anymore."

Kurt smiled very faintly as he glanced around, looking for a distraction. "We are both apparently easily swayed by our moods. And we apparently respond badly to certain…provocations…"

"I miss you."

Kurt looked up. Blaine was staring at him with those eyes of his that said so much in a single look. Kurt swallowed, gazing back at him, not really knowing how to respond to that sudden openness that left the other boy vulnerable.

"I really do," Blaine added, for emphasis, eyes never leaving Kurt's.

Kurt, rather taken aback, felt his hands shake slightly, and he clenched them, putting them in his coat pockets. He exhaled with only the slightest tremor in his breath, trying to get everything he wanted to say in a coherent form in his mind—

—and Kurt's phone went off, along with the walkie still with Blaine.

From Blaine's walkie, an indignant voice from one of the medical team howled, "_Blaine! Dude, where are you? Come on—we need help back here at the tent! Quit playing around!_"

Kurt tried to restrain his sheer frustration as he lifted his own phone to his ear. "_Kurt, for crying out loud—check your messages more!_" came the yell of one of the Stuarts. "_You've had your fun! Come on already, we need you to help us set up for the next event!_" And hung up without as much as a goodbye.

"Charming, these Stuarts," Blaine commented blandly.

"Such sparkling personalities," Kurt remarked, rolling his eyes. He pocketed his phone and raised his eyes to Blaine again. "…looks like you'll have to miss me just a little longer."

"I'll come find you when I finish," Blaine murmured. "And then we…deal with this. Figure out where we stand."

Kurt closed his eyes and nodded. And they had to do this at Valentines. "Right."

"_Blaine_!" the walkie talkie yelled again as Kurt's phone bleated out the arrival of yet another message. Both boys groaned and split up, Kurt striding off towards the stage, possibly determined to school the Stuarts in how one properly conducts a phone conversation.

As he fled, he glanced back to where Blaine had gone off to, and found that he was still within sight. He had stopped a distance off and was helping Miss Medel, who looked a little nauseated. On any other occasion, Kurt would've considered that Medel had one of the cookies, but now he just felt apprehensive.

He wondered if Blaine would notice what he and Reed had already figured out, but the chances were unlikely, with all the food issues in the fair. He also noticed that Mr. Harvey was standing next to Miss Medel, and blinked in surprise at the sight of a tall dark-haired woman with him. His wife?

_This is cutting it a little close, isn't it, Mr. Harvey? _Kurt glanced away in disbelief. Miss Medel must be freaking out inwardly as they went.

As Kurt fled the area, mulling about what he was going to say to Blaine later and the mess that their choir directors seemed to be throwing themselves into, he spotted the Twins—who were tailing a pretty brown-haired girl in a neat white coat. They followed her with grins on their faces. Kurt groaned; where was Charlie when you needed him?

The Stuarts can wait. The twins needed to be reined in.

* * *

"Hello, pretty talking flower!" Evan said, popping out in front of the girl, who jumped, looking startled.

Ethan materialized behind her, holding out a white rose they'd snatched out of one of the flower booths. "A flower for a flower!"

"Oh…thank you." The girl, who looked as though she were just their age and with kind hazel eyes, awkwardly laughed, not quite sure what to make of this pair of blond boys. She took the flower with a grateful smile. "Hello to you too…"

Evan tilted his head curiously at her. It wasn't often that a girl this pretty walked around a Dalton Valentines' fair alone. What with so many boys who would be willing to accompany a straggler. "Why are you alone?"

"Do you not like the fair?" Ethan asked.

"We can take you around and see more!" they chorused.

The girl smiled, looking a little apprehensive but not completely freaked out by the two of them. "Um…no thank you, honestly—" she smiled and looked around. "I was just dragged along here by my girlfriend and she ran off to find this guy—"

Evan brightened up immediately. This was even better than they thought. "Oh so you have a friend with you!"

"Let's find her so there'll be four of us!" Ethan said eagerly, going up alongside the girl.

"No, really, you don't have to—" she said, looking worried.

"What's your name?" the twins asked in their usual forward manner, looking at her intently.

"Becca," she replied, looking puzzled. "And you…?"

"Evan," said one twin, "and Ethan," said the other. They both cracked identical smiles that made her smile again. "We saw you watching us dance earlier."

"You were very good," Becca replied, beaming at them, more comfortable with this particular subject.

"You didn't stay till the end," one twin commented.

"I told you, I was looking for—"

"The both of you—" hereupon Kurt appeared behind the twins, grabbing the backs of their coats and pulling them back. He glowered at them in spite of the fact that they still towered over him. "—stop freaking people out!"

"Oh hello, Alice." The twins blinked at him in surprise, and Kurt glanced to the confused-looking girl. "I'm sorry, they have the inability to comprehend certain social etiquettes."

"Are all boys here this…odd?" Becca asked, staring at the twins. "And is Alice really your name?"

"No," Kurt snapped. He looked at the twins. "Leave her alone, or you're going straight back to Windsor House where you can't drive anyone else nuts."

"Actually…" Becca looked the three of them over, possibly noting the fact that they all had Windsor pins on their jackets and coats. "You're all Dalton students? All of you?"

"Yes," the twins immediately said, Kurt still holding them firmly by their coats. They looked a little comical, since the twins were bent back somewhat.

Becca smiled. "Oh well, good, maybe you can help me. I'm looking for a student. Do you know Blaine Anderson?"

All three looked at her in surprise. Kurt released the twins and moved forward, eyebrow raised. "Yes. Why?"

"Do you know where I can find him?" she asked. "We've been looking for him since we arrived but we can't find him."

"We?" Kurt echoed.

"Oh so _he's_ the boy your girlpal was looking for," the twins said, understanding.

"Well he's at the medical tent, he's on duty for that team," replied Kurt, arms crossed and frowning. "Why are you looking for him?"

Becca simply shrugged with a small smile. "We have history."

All three Windsors stared at her in complete and utter surprise. Becca seemed to be pleased with their reaction and said, "Blaine at the medical tent, huh… Rather fitting, I imagine. But do you know if he'll be there for a while?"

"Possibly, but he might get called off elsewhere," Kurt responded, not liking this more by the minute, feeling a strange twinge in his gut.

"Well I'm sure the people there can help me track him down if he's not." Becca smiled. "I have to go find my companion and tell her I've found him. Thanks for the help. What's your name?"

"Kurt Hummel," he answered, smiling briefly. "I'm his boyfriend," he added clearly.

The twins were now repressing smiles and were failing badly. Becca now looked genuinely surprised. "I'm Rebecca Douglas." She shook hands with him, looking interested. "His boyfriend…? Well this _is_ a surprise—I didn't expect him to have a boyfriend. He used to be pretty…reserved."

She grinned easily, and Kurt gave her a forced smile. "Oh, you'd be surprised with his history these days."

"Should be an interesting talk, then."

"Alice, your phone is ringing like crazy," Evan prompted.

"Will you stop calling me that in front of people who don't understand what you're saying?" Kurt hissed, staring at them both as he pulled out his phone and glared at it.

"Well you guys look busy so—I'll go find my companion," Becca smiled. "I'll see you later—hopefully you too, Kurt." She smiled and hurried off without another word.

Kurt watched her go and looked at the Twins, who grinned at him. "Easy now, Alice. You've got that what-is-happening look on your face again," Evan smirked.

"You have to remember," Ethan said, patting his shoulder, "that things can get a little crazy here." A text message arrived for them as well. This time Ethan had the phone, and he pulled it out of his pocket. He and his twin peeked at it, and burst into hysterical laughter.

"Now what?" Kurt asked, sounding as though he was having a migraine, and he really did feel that one was setting in.

"It's Dwight!" Evan grinned. "He says…"

"Shane and Reed are in our Hall of Mirrors," grinned Ethan.

"And they've been separated," said Evan.

"And hopelessly lost!" Ethan burst into laughter again.

"And you find that hysterical?" Kurt yelled after them as they immediately bolted off to the other source of interest that their limited attention spans found conceivably attractive. For all he knew, they were going to try and worsen the situation somehow.

Kurt pressed his hands to his temples, waiting to wake up from this crazy dream—because he definitely _had_ to still be asleep in his dorm and he just never woke up. This couldn't be reality. Crazy didn't even begin to cover this fair. Just when he thought the flood was _over_…

* * *

"Reed?"

"Shane?"

"Where are you?"

"I'm right here!"

"Where?"

"Other side of the wall."

"…you're going to have to jump so I can see you, you're too short."

"_Shane!_"

"I'm sorry—sorry! But I can't see you, honestly."

Reed sighed in surrender. He had no idea how the Twins managed it (then again, no one ever knew how the twins ever managed to do anything that seemed too far beyond the scope of human comprehension), but they _had_ managed to construct an amazing Hall of Mirrors that must have encompassed the entirety of Orion Hall, from the entrance to the back exit. It was wall-to-wall mirrors, and in maze form. Each mirror panel had to much more than six feet high, and the paths really did get confusing since the only lights they left on were the small overhead ones dotting the ceiling.

The only means of direction in the entire place was the chandelier far above them, and it wasn't lit. At best, it only showed you if you were already in the middle of the hall. Otherwise, it didn't help at all.

The rule of the hall was simple. You enter with your partner together, and you have to leave together, otherwise the people outside won't open the door. You had to work together to get out.

Reed and Shane didn't know how it happened—maybe Shane thought Reed was following him and vice versa—but they realized that they were separated after a while. And they somehow couldn't find their way back to each other in the maze. Reed was starting to have the sneaking suspicion that some of the mirrors actually opened to other paths and the twins really _did_ enjoy messing with people's heads.

"I texted Dwight to get the twins to save us…" Reed sighed. "But knowing them, they'd probably see how long they can keep us in here."

He glanced up when he saw Shane's waving fingertips over the wall trying to get his attention. "Hey, you okay?" Shane asked. "Can you see me?"

Reed laughed a little. "Yes, I can. Barely."

"Oh good." Shane sounded so relieved that Reed smiled. He stood up from where he was leaning against a mirror and looked up at the fingers at the top of the mirror. "You don't have to be so overly attentive. You don't have to make up for anything."

"Well I want to." Shane's fingers drummed lightly on the wall. "You haven't exactly _completely_ forgiven me, I know that much."

Reed looked up incredulously, and Shane added, "I know because you haven't really smiled at me. I mean like, _really_. You haven't even looked at me in the face much."

_I know I haven't, but not for what you think… _Reed turned red. He still remembered all the things he'd been telling Kurt—about realizing how he actually felt about Shane. Half the reason it took him this long to even remotely _consider_ the fact that he might be in love with the younger Anderson was the fact that he was still half confused as to why he was so attracted to him in the first place, and if it was any indication as to his orientation.

He still didn't have the answers.

But he did know he liked Shane. A lot. Romantically. And it was the only thing that was definite in his head right now. And strangely, he didn't find _that _so unsettling. He'd considered perhaps telling him directly, as Shane really did seem to like him. But it was strange to even think about. He didn't know how to tell him, to get him to understand his situation.

"You've gone quiet."

Reed jumped at the sudden tone, and was surprised that it sounded so despondent. Shane said, "Do I really upset you that much?"

"I'm not upset," Reed smiled. "And you don't make me upset." He walked down the path he was on, fingers trailing over the glass. "You make me pretty happy, actually…"

Shane blushed to the roots of his curls. "Oh…really?" he said noncommittally, praying that the elation wasn't all that obvious in his tone. He noticed Reed's voice moving away, and followed in that direction.

"Yeah," Reed murmured thoughtfully. "You don't think you do?"

"I think I make you pretty uncomfortable sometimes, I know that much," Shane replied. Reed's voice was getting further away, but his own path had to stop to turn a corner that would also lead away from Reed's direction. "But you put up with me, so I figured I must be doing okay in spite of that?"

Reed stopped, noticing his voice getting a bit more distant. "Shane, where are you?"

"Over here. I think I'm going to end up going in a different direction from you."

"What?" Reed's voice rose, a little alarmed.

"Uh…" Shane looked around, disoriented at the high mirrors all around them. "Well, as long as we keep going, we're bound to end up running into each other again. Let's just try to find our way back to each other."

"I can't see you, and apparently _I'm_ too short for you to find," Reed grumbled. "How are we supposed to know where to go?"

Shane paused, putting his hands on the mirrors and looking around. Then he looked up and grinned. "Hey. Sing."

"What?" Reed stared, incredulous from the corner he'd found himself in. "This isn't the time to—"

"Go on, sing! I'll sing with you—and I'll try to head for the sound of your voice, and you head towards me."

"That's ridiculous."

"Better ideas?"

Silence.

"Hey, you did say you were nervous for the solo!" called Shane cheerily. "It'll help calm the nerves since you'll have to bail for the prep as soon as we get out."

Reed winced. And in that, he was right. He sighed deeply and suffixed it a grumble.

Shane stood for a moment, listening in the silence, and then he heard Reed's voice rising from somewhere in the distance.

_I'm still feeling the rain fall, bouncing off my skin._

_How long do I have to wait for the sun to shine again?_

_Come out and paint me a rainbow, so I can follow it._

_I don't know where it will take me, but I like wandering…_

Shane smiled widely, heading for that direction, eyes lighting up at the sound of Reed's voice—following it like a beacon. _Yes! _he grinned.

Reed kept moving through the path he was on, looking around with a smile, finding one that led towards where he last heard Shane's voice sound from. He raised his voice, hoping it leads Shane to him.

_Whoever you are, where will you be?_

_Are you the same old dreamer I've been waiting on for me?_

_Waiting for love, waiting for the same old dreamer on the other side, _

_Hoping no matter how far, I'm gonna find my way to you… _

_Following a rainbow…_

Shane grinned as he found a path through a set of mirrors that led towards the voice. He raised his own voice, hoping Reed was also heading towards him as he increased his pace. He felt a little excited, a little hopeful, hoping that the song wasn't just a song—hoping that it was just a little bit more.

_I'm gonna stop in the middle, hang my feet off the edge. _

_I got no reason to worry, I know I'll find the end;_

_And that's where you'll be waiting; I hope you don't forget,_

_That I won't quit 'til I find you, no matter the risks…_

Reed blushed considerably at the sound of Shane's voice and happily went towards his direction. He had been at a loss with two different paths, but his voice led him to the correct one. As he moved forward, he could hear Shane's voice getting closer, and he began to smile again.

_Whoever you are, where will you be?_

_Are you the same old dreamer I've been waiting on for me?_

_Waiting for love, waiting for the same old dreamer on the other side, _

_Hoping no matter how far, I'm gonna find my way to you… _

_Following a rainbow…_

They were very close now, almost to the other side of the hall. And their voices were getting closer to each other. When Reed found a path, he could hear Shane's voice joining his so clearly that he must've been only on the other side of the wall again now, the two of them singing to each other easily.

_Stuck in my mind—I'm wasting time—Still on my own— _

_I never thought that I would find my way into the light; _

_Dreaming to find…_

Reed's fingers, trailing over the mirror wall, brushed against a pair of real ones. He looked up to find Shane standing there at the opening in the path, smiling brightly at him. Reed laughed, looking up at him, and gave him a hug of relief, startling the other boy, but Shane laughed in answer.

_Whoever you are, where will you be?_

_Are you the same old dreamer I've been waiting on for me?_

_Waiting for love, waiting for the same old dreamer on the other side, _

_Hoping no matter how far, I'm gonna find my way to you… _

_Following a rainbow…_

Shane took Reed's hand and led him down the single path that they now found, where a door was waiting on the other end. They'd found the end of the maze at last. He half expected Reed to let go of his hand as they headed down this path, but Reed kept his hand easily in his, walking with him.

_I know I'm gonna find you, I know. _

_I know I'm gonna find you._

_I know I'm gonna find you, _

_I'm never gonna let you go… _

They reached the door at last and Reed sighed deeply in relief. Before they could even touch it, the door immediately opened.

The Tweedles were standing there with bright grins. "Congratulations," Evan commented casually.

"You two must've set the all-time record." Ethan replied.

"…for _longest time taken to get through the hall_," they chorused together, cracking up into hysterical laughter—so hard that the nearly fell over.

Dwight, who was standing next to them, sighed. "I don't know where Charlie is, but why _I_ have to take care of all of you is beyond me," he commented irritably. "I brought the Twins, but they insisted on waiting for you two to figure it out on your own."

"Thanks, still," grinned Shane.

Dwight noted that they were holding hands and raised an eyebrow. Reed noticed where he was looking and turned red, but his hold on Shane's hand only tightened a little bit more. Dwight glanced at him, then shrugged. "Well. It looks like you two have worked it out. However, it won't please you to know that demonic interference of the Stuart kind have prevented Blaine and Kurt from working it out as of yet."

"Logan _again_?" Shane demanded.

"No, that House in general has vindictive occupants," Dwight said coolly. "Han told me that the Stuarts have called Blaine and Kurt off to their respective duties before they could properly talk. Honestly, I've tried to exorcise that House from its caffeinated regime of terror, but it appears I'll need a hunter _army_ to take down evil of that level."

"Han is actually out…in daylight?" Reed stared. "…is he _breathing_?"

"He's got wireless internet, he'll live," Dwight dismissed. He looked at Reed. "Aren't you supposed to be preparing to sing? _All _of you supposed 'lead performers'?" he glared at the twins.

Reed paled, realizing the time. In moments, dusk would fall. The Warblers were supposed to bring in a final, grand performance. He was going to solo in front of the assembled crowd and he felt the blood drain rapidly from his face.

"You'll be all right," Shane smiled at him.

"You'll…be watching, won't you?" Reed asked him, half afraid of a yes and a no.

Shane looked at him incredulously. "Reed. I got hit by a landslide not very long ago. I'm supposed to be in recovery period. And yet I'm here. You realize that means even natural disasters can't stop me from watching you sing?"

"Leave now, please, you can continue all this sap later…" Dwight said, pushing the Windsor Warblers off to the direction of the stage, looking supremely grossed out by all the mush that was happening.

"You'll make a good prefect someday, you know, taking care of everyone like this," Evan suddenly said, grinning at Dwight, who stared at him and his twin, questioning their sanity for the fifth time that day (the average was usually eight).

"True," Ethan agreed, also smirking. "Hey, we're not going to be here forever. When we graduate, you'll be turning into senior. Someone'll have to take over."

Dwight only snorted and rolled his eyes. "I seriously doubt that. I'll be far too busy making sure all the occupants of the house are alive and un-maimed."

"Well what do you know, that's exactly how Charlie describes his job…" Reed beamed.

Dwight pushed them all on, the twins running ahead as Shane held onto Reed's hand again and ran after them. He grumbled to himself as they went off, but realized something.

"Where _is_ Charlie?" Dwight wondered out loud, looking around. Instead of following after the others, he stopped in his pace and glanced about, feeling something amiss.

It came completely out of left field and though Dwight had some ideas of his own psychic capabilities (which could either be truly accurate or completely nonexistent), he was sure he felt a bad vibe coming from somewhere else—somewhere not too far off.

He turned to the direction he felt it in and realized why: Julian and some boy he didn't recognize were off by the courtyard steps behind South and Main. Now, in Dwight's good days, he'd never really been fond of the Stuart celebrity, but there was something different about the vibes.

Julian was sitting at the steps, staring so hard onto the ground that something was liable to catch fire. But he didn't look angry. Just as though he were trying to sort himself out. And the boy Dwight didn't recognize looked completely distressed in his condition.

There was something wrong here, Dwight knew it. But he couldn't put his finger exactly on what. Was it the fact that Julian, far from all his usual candor, was now sitting as though he'd just been at the wake of some great tragedy that he still couldn't properly react to?

Julian and the new boy looked like they were having an argument: the new boy trying to get something out of Julian, repeatedly asking him questions, but the actor—after ignoring several of his queries—was just too annoyed and got irritated with him. Whatever they were talking about, it looked serious.

Finally Julian got completely fed up and left. Dwight watched the new boy who clenched his fists as Julian vanished into the dimming light of the day. His fists were getting clenched so tightly that Dwight stared when he saw him positively shaking. The new boy looked around for a moment, a little disoriented, and he had to take a deep breath.

A deep, calming breath.

Rather spooked, Dwight stepped back and nearly ran right over Laura Bancroft. He jumped away from her, brushing off the contact in the hasty manner of someone who perpetually feared contamination of some kind. Laura was hardly bothered about that, but she looked up at him with wide eyes. "Did you _see_ that?" she hissed to him without hesitation, nodding back to Adam, who was still standing there.

"Yeah," Dwight looked back and turned to her. "Do you know him?"

"Julian Larson, if the talking fangirls are to be trusted—and that boy over there, he's Adam. At least I heard someone say it. He's from Hanover, where my brother is."

"Well don't you think he's a little strange, that Adam guy…?" Dwight remarked, glancing back again. "And I don't expect you understand, but coming from a Windsor…"

Laura gave him a blank look. "…you don't know a whole lot of Hanover boys, do you?"

* * *

"Hey Hummel."

Kurt, who had been sent on an errand to retrieve something back at Warblers' Hall just before the group went onstage for their performance, nearly jumped out of his skin when Julian appeared behind him. He glowered at the Stuart, who was looking a little white today, and he began wondering why everyone in this whole school seemed to like ambushing him. Oh the price of fame—where he was virtually ignored in McKinley, everything fell to him—good or bad—here in Dalton. "You're worse than the twins. You just pop up out of nowhere," he told him.

"I'm going to get straight to the point," Julian said calmly. He walked right up to Kurt and extended his hand.

Kurt stared at the hand outstretched to him. "What is this for…?"

"I concede." Julian said with finality, a big smile on his face. Kurt, who had by now known what the smile of someone who may or may not have lost it completely looked like, recognized that look immediately.

"Concede to what?" Kurt raised an eyebrow.

"You don't need to know that in particular." Julian lowered his hand and shoved them into his jacket pockets. He shrugged. "But you win. I'm tired. I'm leaving."

Surprised, Kurt turned to him fully. "Tired of what? School?" He had heard from the others that Julian had a habit of appearing and disappearing from school due to his schedules, but as he always came back, Kurt assumed that the actor enjoyed being in Dalton.

Julian only shrugged. "Yes, but mainly, of Logan. I'm going. So he's basically your problem now."

"Wait—what did he do now?" Kurt asked, frowning. "And what do you mean he's my problem?"

"He hasn't done anything," Julian shrugged. "That's the problem here on my end… And he's _your_ problem now because it'll mean that apart from Derek, you're going to be the only one left who cares about him."

"You're leaving Dalton. Permanently?" Kurt stared at him incredulously. "Have you told him?"

Julian glowered at him. "He doesn't own me nor run my life. He doesn't need to have a say in anything."

"That's a 'no'." Kurt crossed his arms and frowned at him as he moved a little closer. "I don't know what the deal is exactly that you keep trying to push me at him, but I can tell you that your I-could-care-less act doesn't work on me."

"Really." Julian's expression was as placid—and just about as cold—as a frozen pond.

"You haven't been turned down by a whole lot of people in your life, have you?" Kurt said, raising an eyebrow. "Believe me, I know unrequited bitterness when I see it. Firsthand experience. So you're not fooling me."

For the first time, Julian's face flickered in an expression of actual respect. He nodded slowly and leaned back, hooking his thumbs onto his pants pockets as a hollow laugh escaping him. "Right…"

"Mm-hmm…" Kurt gave him a smile that was far too knowing.

"Interesting of you to notice when he's the one who's been exposed to it all these years… I'd ask you not to tell him, but I don't think you will anyway."

"I won't?"

Julian shrugged. "Because it's not your secret to tell and you've been raised better than I've been—you actually have principles. That's your weakness." He leaned forward to Kurt. "But I don't have that. So I'm going to do the irresponsible thing and drop him onto your lap, because I'm really really tired of it."

"You and he are friends," Kurt pointed out. "He needs you right now and you know it. And you know how he's been. He doesn't have a whole lot of friends. You won't just drop him because you feel like it."

"Oh believe me, I will. I've done it before."

"But from what I hear, you always come back." Kurt matched his gaze without a twinge of doubt. "That's the trouble, right? It's not something you can just turn your back from. I haven't even known him all that long and _I'm _worried about his situation."

Julian snorted in derision. "You may know how it feels, but you don't know _me_."

Kurt stepped up to him, completely unimpressed by the other boy's bravado. With all he's seen, the spoiled actor wasn't even on his radar. "I know I've only actually talked to you a few times, but from this conversation alone I can already tell that you're more than willing to swallow your ego for his sake. And seeing as how you're probably more self-absorbed than I am, which is saying something, that's definitely a sign that you're not going to push away from him that easily."

Julian glared at him and Kurt smiled. "You're not leaving, Julian. I really don't think you are. You can say you will, but I really think you're going to come back just to make sure he's okay. Because even if you're not planning on telling him, he means too much to you." He backed away from the actor and started walking towards Warblers' Hall.

Julian clenched his fists and glared after him. "Since when did you turn into such a know-it-all?" he yelled.

"I was actually fishing—but thanks for confirming!" Kurt called back, as he grinned and strolled on. "Good luck in telling him! Try singing! Seems to be all the rage nowadays in glee clubs!"

"You're going to start holding this over my head, aren't you?" Julian asked with a little less conviction and actually starting to sound a little worried.

He received a laugh in reply. A "Windsor" one, as Stuarts tended to call it now—since it was a laugh that meant "just wait and see".

Julian groaned in the corridor, clawing in the air momentarily in frustration before stomping off. He should have known this was going to be a bad idea. There was just no talking to a Windsor. But for the record, at least he now had an idea of what Logan sees in the boy.

* * *

When Kurt closed the door of Warblers' Hall, he leaned back on it and let out his breath out of sheer exhaustion. It was a far far longer day than he had expected out of this crazy fair, and being woken up much too early for it without being given all that much time to rest took a toll. He couldn't wait for the day to be officially over—and then he'd _book_ the twins himself to have them do some retaliation on those sadistic Stuarts.

Kurt dropped himself on one of the couches and found himself sinking completely into them, facedown, feeling spent. He knew he should be getting up, he knew he should just get what he was supposed to get, go out, give it to the stage crew and help the Warblers prep for their performance, go check if Finn was out of the bathroom yet and send him home to Burt and Carole if he hadn't recovered, but right now, he couldn't will himself to get up.

He started to doze off a little, feeling too warm and comfortable, wanting to be alone for once, in a place where he could block out everything that he'd seen and heard today. He wanted to forget Warblerland for a few moments, and just be somewhere safe.

Warmth was starting to emanate from the small of his back, and half-asleep, he realized a hand was there, resting just carefully enough to catch his attention without forcibly trying to wake him. Kurt mumbled into the cushions, "…I'll drive you home later, Finn…"

A quiet laugh. "Are you still dreaming, Alice…?"

Surprised, Kurt cracked an eye open, and saw Blaine kneeling next to the couch, smiling a little at him. Kurt smiled back faintly. "…you scared me for a minute there."

"I told you I'd come find you," he said simply. "If you're this tired, I'll tell them you had to go back to Windsor." But he let Kurt take his hand to use it as a support to get up and sit properly on the couch.

"No…" Kurt let out his breath as he sat down. Blaine didn't quite let go of his hand, so he squeezed Blaine's hand a little. "…we did say we were going to figure all this out."

"Yeah…" Blaine sat down next to him. Kurt noted that he didn't have his walkie talkie with him. Clearly, he was not interested in getting interrupted a second time. "This really is… Well…I think this didn't have to last as long as it has. That and, if it goes on any longer, I am completely convinced that Mercedes _will_ come to end me. And bury my body in the woods."

Kurt laughed a little with him, looking down. Blaine also turned away with a small smile, seemingly glad to also have earned a laugh and some degree of comfort between them. Their hands rested on the couch within an inch of the other's, but not quite touching.

Blaine closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "Listen… I'm sor—"

"Stop." Kurt looked at him intently. "Stop right there."

Blaine stared at him. "But—"

"Well I don't want to listen to it," Kurt answered simply, even though he was clenching his fists over his knees now.

"Why not?" Blaine almost laughed at the intent look on Kurt's face.

"Because it's been made clear that we were both wrong somewhere." Kurt looked out the window. "And we were both right at the same time. No one wins."

"Kurt, I…" Blaine shook his head. "Kurt, what I did… It was the first test between us as a couple and I bombed it. I failed it royally. I should have trusted you and instead…" He stared at him for a long moment before adding, "…I can't pretend I didn't do that."

"I'm not saying you're to pretend you didn't, because you did." Kurt replied. "And I'm not going to pretend that I wasn't hurt by it… I'm also not going to pretend that I was completely sure that I wouldn't be leading Logan along by doing all those things with him. And that…I didn't tell you everything because I knew you would think…well, exactly what we fought about. If I had just told you what I intended, I don't think this would've blown up like this either."

"Well…I haven't told you everything," Blaine admitted.

Kurt shook his head. "…we actually need to talk more. Never thought _that_ would happen to us considering all the talking we do when we're together…"

"And I didn't think I'd ever feel this jealous ever," Blaine commented.

"You were jealous…" Kurt looked at him with the most fleeting smirk.

"Obviously," Blaine smiled at him. "Can't really blame me for wanting to hold onto you as badly as I do." He sighed. "It's the worst I've been. I've got it bad with you and…" he shrugged. "It makes me do really stupid things."

Kurt bit his lip at the arbitrary openness, smiling a little bit as he laid his hand on Blaine's, holding it tightly and making the other boy look at him.

Blaine squeezed his hand. "You know what I was afraid of the most all this time…? That…I would lose definitely lose you—especially after that big blowup. Would've been the stupidest thing I've ever done."

"If you ended with another miserable playlist, I think Wes and David would be prepared to have Dwight actually exorcise you."

"I'm serious," Blaine smiled a little, lacing his fingers in Kurt's, who only shrugged lightly.

"Well," Kurt murmured, eyes distant, "…I suppose that while I did have my misgivings, I figured we were going to eventually talk about it. We'd have to. We're both…really tired of running. And we wouldn't be running away from one another…"

Kurt got up and walked to the window, where the sun was steadily sinking. Blaine watched him with a quiet expression.

There was a pause that hung in the air, as if the both of them were still waiting for something more to be said. Kurt was staring out the window as the sun died, and considering what he wanted to say to him and wondering if he even had to say it at all. Outside, he could see people gathered towards the direction of the stage, possibly watching the Warblers. He smiled a little sadly.

"…we were supposed to sing together for Valentines' Day…" Kurt murmured at last. "I wanted to sing with you. In front of a crowd. It might've been a nice change from all the other disappointing Valentines' Days. I get to spend it with my first boyfriend."

Blaine stood slowly and turned to him. "I thought you didn't believe in Valentines' Day."

"Today proves the reason why," Kurt replied with a small smile as he looked at Blaine. "We kind of messed it up, didn't we?"

"You know us, though," Blaine said, walking to him. "We're always fashionably late, but we do make it." He reached out and took Kurt's hand again.

Kurt looked down at their linked hands and laughed softly, lowering his head. "At some point in the past days, when we couldn't even look at each other… I had this really persistent thought at the back of my mind. You know me, I may tend to get a little…dramatic, but Reed tells me that this particular moment was noteworthy."

He sighed. "I was probably staring at the songsheets a long time before I realized that I…" He stopped himself momentarily, looking as though to have to admit this was embarrassing already. Blaine waited, but made a small start when Kurt blinked away the strange expression he was trying to hide. "I don't want to…to sing this damn song with anyone else but you. And I want to do it without hate radiating from either one of us."

Kurt licked his dry lips and shrugged a little, staring at anywhere except Blaine. "You know which one. The one we kept practicing before they even assigned the partners. …that's all I wanted during that time, and it was just stuck in my head." He laughed shortly. "We were fighting and all I could think of was _singing_ with you. Can you believe that…?"

Blaine looked steadily at him, so many things about Kurt's words he was willing to refute. So he began with the most important. "…that's the thing…I never actually hated you. Not for a single minute. Ever." He walked a little closer. "Why…would you _ever_ think that I would hate you? I mean _you_ might hate me, and I wouldn't really blame you, but the reverse is…"

Kurt didn't look up at him. "I told you. It was just a thought, most likely induced by temporary insanity. Seems to be prevalent in that House we stay in."

There was a strangeness in that distance, that made it just enough for them to see everything they had to. A pocket of time where everything hung silently in the air, pieces waiting to fall perfectly to place, and laced with some hoping—that they _would_ fall to place.

Blaine reached out and touched Kurt's face to make him look at him. Kurt did lift his eyes, and Blaine stared at him as though he were trying to completely memorize his face right at this moment. This was a surprise to Kurt, who looked up at him in askance, wondering why the mood changed so suddenly, and why it became just that little warmer, just that little more vulnerable, and just so slightly urgent.

"If…it's all right…" Blaine murmured, leaning a little bit closer, thumb brushing Kurt's cheek gently.

Kurt's breath caught a little as Blaine came closer, staring intently into the eyes that looked at him with earnest pleading. He felt Blaine's hand tremble a little, and he lifted his own to cover the one on his cheek. Blaine's breath was warm. "…can we please try again…?" Blaine asked softly.

Kurt's eyes misted over a little, a tremulous smile on his lips. Blaine saw the look on his face and pulled him close against him, holding tightly as though he'd been waiting an eternity for this chance, and in some ways, it had certainly felt like it. As Blaine brought him close, Kurt's arms wrapped around Blaine's shoulders and he held on just as tightly, hoping that his arms didn't shake so obviously, secure with no intention of letting go.

"I'm sorry…" Blaine whispered into Kurt's shoulder, holding more tightly. "I'm so sorry…"

Kurt closed his eyes and held on just as tightly in answer, taking a shuddering breath, fighting back the sting in his eyes and speaking so low he could only be heard in the silence. "I'm sorry…" he whispered in return, clutching tight.

Neither of them could have really won. And pride was seldom worth holding onto when one begins to consider that there might be something much bigger to lose. Didn't this sort of thing happen all the time between people? There went that wordless feeling of wondering why they even were estranged to begin with—it lasts only a fleeting moment, just quickly enough to be meaningless after it burnt away—against the realization that they _could_ try again, treading more carefully this time.

In the silence, Kurt could feel everything. He could feel Blaine's heart pounding, the warm hand that rested against the back of his head, holding him that little big closer, and the other arm securely around his waist. He wondered if Blaine felt the warm tears that fell onto his shoulder, the ones he hadn't wanted him to see but found their way through anyway.

Maybe he did. Blaine just held onto Kurt for a long, quiet moment, his body relaxing slightly as he felt Kurt breathe against him. Maybe that was why when he began, he began so softly, as though it were almost a lullaby. Just to soothe the wounds neither of them could see.

_Never knew I could feel like this_

_Like I've never seen the sky before…_

_I want to vanish inside your kiss_

_Every day I love more and more…_

Kurt raised his eyes to him, heart beating just that little bit faster as he recognized the song within the first line. Blaine took Kurt's face into his hands carefully, the way people did when they were worried they'd shatter something if they held on too tightly.

Blaine leaned his forehead against Kurt's, not quite raising his eyes to him yet. There wasn't a whole lot he could do for him at this exact moment, but this…they both needed this.

_Listen to my heart, can you hear it sing?_

_Telling me to give you everything…_

_Seasons may change, winter to spring…_

Blaine now looked directly at him with a small smile. "_But I love you…until the end of time…"_

Kurt's eyes welled up again, breath almost held bated as Blaine continued to sing, with his hands slipping down until they took Kurt's own, closing over them gently.

_Come what may_

_Come what may_

_I will love you until my dying day…_

Kurt looked up at him, smiling tremulously through the mists in his eyes. This was much more than those endless practices, it meant much more now—everything had changed in a few days, and somehow, they were going to find their way back.

He held onto Blaine's hands and gently began to sing in answer.

_Suddenly the world seems such a perfect place…_

_Suddenly it moves with such a perfect grace…_

Voices lifting together, they stood a little closer, eyes never leaving each other: "_Suddenly my life doesn't seem such a waste…"_

And Kurt smiled at Blaine, whose eyes just lit up in a way that Kurt never really thought he'd ever cause anyone to do when looking at him. "_It all revolves around you…" _he sang, holding his hands.

Blaine brought him close, as their voices rose together again to ring through the room, their fingers lacing through each other's.

_And there's no mountain too high no river too wide_

_Sing out this song and I'll be there by your side…_

_Storm clouds may gather and stars may collide…_

Blaine gazed at him with a gentle smile. "_But I love you…_

"_I love you…_" Kurt responded, face flushing just slightly.

"_Until the end of time…" _They both sang, as outside, beyond the great glass windows, the fair lights illuminated in succession, piercing through the darkness that was falling over the school—hundreds of lights of brilliant lights filling the scene, carpeting the Dalton grounds and etching the scene against the black.

_Come what may, come what may… _

_I will love you until my dying day…_

_Oh come what may, come what may…_

_I will love you…_

"_I will love you…_" Kurt murmured, looking intently at Blaine and the light reflecting in his eyes. "_Suddenly the world seems such a perfect place…"_

Blaine pulled him closer, kissing him briefly, sharing a breath.

And without warning, beyond in the fairgrounds, fireworks soared into the sky. The Warblers must have finished their performance long ago—riots of light and color erupted all over the darkened skies, filling the air with light and sound, dropping thousands of sparks earthward like magic.

The pair in the Hall could barely acknowledge the brilliance that flared over the windows of the room they stood in—too engrossed with each other, eyes full of hope.

_Come what may…_

_Come what may…_

_I will love you until my dying day…_

Fireworks continued to burst even as their voices stilled, eyes never leaving each other, breathing deeply as though to catch their breaths—as though they narrowly escaped drowning in a storm, and maybe they did.

Kurt was just about to catch his breath when Blaine stopped it again by moving forward and kissing him more deeply than before, hand moving up to cup Kurt's cheek as he did. Kurt's face grew warm, and he responded to the kiss, hand leaning on the side of Blaine's neck.

They were never more grateful for one song.

And then Warblers' Hall erupted into cheering and applause.

The two broke apart and turned with wide eyes to find the Warblers at the wide-open doorway, hooting and catcalling as they applauded so hard that Kurt could see Reed's hands turning scarlet. Shane was with him jumping up and down and forgetting his foot again—and the New Directions stood with them, also grinning from ear to ear. Harvey and Medel stood at the door, smiling a little, but they too were quietly clapping.

Reed was laughing hard. "Okay _now_ we'll consider forgiving you for not watching us perform!" he said, smirking at his roommate.

"Finally!" Wes said, throwing his hands into the air, Mercedes turning her eyes to the ceiling in relieved agreement.

"Great song!" Bailey grinned, applauding.

"Perfect timing on the fireworks, though—wow…" Finn said, blinking at the windows, where fireworks continued to burst. The Twins looked at each other and discreetly gave themselves high fives—actually, the fireworks ran earlier than scheduled, but it had to come at the perfect moment. They made sure that a certain Caterpillar rigged it just so.

Artie was whistling and Santana was smirking at the pair in the hall who clearly neglected to close the door prior to their private performance. The Warblers had intended to return to the Hall to have a meeting, and the New Directions had headed off with them, after Finn expressed needing to find Kurt.

Kurt laughed a little, but he and Blaine looked up in surprise to see Logan standing among the Warblers. He was smiling a little as well—a more genuine one than they both had seen in a while—as he too clapped his hands. He gave them both a small nod, which was in itself an acknowledgement. It told the pair his intentions of retreat.

Kurt looked at Blaine, who continued to keep his eyes on Logan. Blaine, still standing close to Kurt, gave him a soft nod in answer. Logan just smiled a little more and carefully stepped back from the Warblers, past the others, and vanished into the hallway beyond.

Here Kurt turned to Blaine a moment, considering something before whispering, "I have to talk to you about something later, all right?"

Blaine looked at him in surprise and nodded. "All right."

"Okay, settle, settle." Harvey said, clapping hard to get their attention. "Since we seem to have visitors in the Hall…" and he smiled at New Directions, who grinned back at him, "…we'll have to forgo the post-performance meeting."

Rachel's face fell slightly. Tina giggled.

"But, for the benefit of the two absent ones…" he raised an eyebrow at Blaine and Kurt, who blushed. "I'll repeat that you all did excellently today."

Shane grinned at Reed, who beamed up at him. The Tweedles winked at Brittany, who laughed.

"If we keep this up, we'll be more than ready for Regionals. Where you'll be waiting, I assume," he added to New Directions, and Rachel grinned now. "Absolutely!" she said proudly.

"Bring it, Mr. Harvey," Mercedes laughed.

"It will be 'brought', don't worry," Harvey assured her with a smile. "Though I must admit…" he looked at the set of Warblers and New Directions kids that performed in the middle of the day. "You all do seem to work well together."

Medel looked pleased. "That's always a good sign, you know. We should try that again sometime—in a non-competition setting. I wonder what Will Schuester would think of that."

There was a roar of eager assent from everyone in the room and Harvey had to calm them all down again. "That's enough for one day, I think, everyone—go on. Get out of here—remember to prepare for Parents' Night with your song suggestions and sign up, those interested for the leads."

"What's Parents' Night?" Tina asked David as the whole mass started to head out of the hall.

David smiled wanly. "Hell night, mostly."

"All the parents and guardians come all fancy, mainly to be briefed on what has happened in the year so far," said Evan. Ethan nodded, "We're supposed to perform for them, the best ones get awarded, all that pomp and circumstance."

"Why is it hell night, then?" Rachel asked, brow furrowed. "Aren't you _glad_ to be performing in front of such an exclusive audience?"

"Because we all do this in front of the most judging eyes in the planet: _our parents_," Wes grumbled as they left the room.

Kurt and Blaine followed the others out the hall, but Harvey stopped them. He looked intently at the two of them, still with hands linked. He seemed to consider them for a moment and said, "If it helps, I've still been back and forth about letting the two of you take the lead on Parents' Night. And not just because you are two of our best."

"You did already show _some_ improvement," Medel said with a smile. "We were told you worked very hard throughout the fair… Even Logan did rather well today. And your fellow Warblers expressed missing you onstage with them."

Kurt smiled a little—but not too much. Wouldn't want to seem _too_ overeager now…

Harvey and Medel glanced at each other, and finally, Harvey said, "All right, well… We will allow all three of you to try out for the Parents' Night lead. Preference will _still _go to the current leads—Reed and the twins, but should your fellow Warblers elect you, you may take the stage."

"We need two leads—just two, separate soloists." Medel nodded, ignoring the look of hope that was definitely rising in Kurt's eyes. "So you should prepare."

"Thank you, sir," Blaine nodded with a smile to the director. Harvey put a hand to Blaine's shoulder. "I need to borrow you for a moment, I want to speak to you about your brother."

Blaine looked confused. "Shane? What about him?"

"Well, I happened to see him in action today…" and he led Blaine away down the hall, the worried boy letting go of Kurt's hand as he followed the director.

Kurt was left with Medel, who he now turned to. Medel smiled at him and said, "I'm very glad you and Blaine have worked things out. It must have been difficult for the both of you. And from what it appears…Logan has calmed down some. I'm hoping things will improve."

"Same here, Miss Medel," Kurt answered.

He paused for a moment, wondering if he should—it was jumping terribly to conclusions, but what else could it be?—but if she couldn't even tell Harvey, she probably needed all the support she could get. Quinn and Babygate didn't exactly leave Kurt with pleasant memories about unplanned pregnancies. He took her hands quickly with a hasty smile across his features. "Miss Medel. Are you okay?"

Puzzled, the female director stared at him. "Oh, yes, of course I am."

"It's just that…I did see you sick the other day," Kurt told her, giving her a meaningful look.

She didn't catch on. "Oh, I told you—I was just a little nauseated."

"You were also sick today," Kurt added emphatically.

"Oh that…was just the cookies." Her smile began to flicker a little.

Kurt stared at her with wide eyes. "Okay…well…" and he said this slowly, "I just wanted you to know… that I've seen this kind of thing before with some people I know and..." He looked intently at her. "You can trust me."

Medel stared at him, still a little unsure, but her hands tightened on his. "What do you mean?"

"… I'm just saying I can look out for you a little bit, if you need help."

It must have dawned on her at last, because her hands tightened onto Kurt's hands a little more. "Kurt…you're a very good kid and an excellent student," she began, sounding a little shaky. "But…I think that you and I can agree…to keep this between the both of us for a little bit. All right?" she said, widening her eyes at him.

"I told you," Kurt replied, wondering if she realized that she was cutting off the circulation in his hands. "You can trust me."

Medel looked worried. "Have you… Have you spoken of this to anyone…? My, um…situation?"

Kurt felt a pang of alarm. Reed knew. He was there, he heard everything. But he forced a smile at Medel and lied beautifully. "No, of course I haven't."

Relief flashed through her eyes. "All right. Let's…let's drop the subject now, all right? I will be all right." And by that, she means that this shall not be spoken of. Ever again. There was finality in that.

Kurt nodded. "I understand." He let go of her hands. "I'll see you tomorrow, Miss Medel."

"Tomorrow…" Medel nodded, watching him with still a pang of worry as he now walked off down the corridor, following after Harvey and Blaine, who had moved to the direction of the exits along with the other Warblers.

When Kurt arrived at the doors of South and Main, Blaine ran up to him, looking a little frazzled. "What?" Kurt asked as he went up to him, exiting the doors along with him. "What did Harvey want?"

"He saw Shane perform in that dance battle," Blaine grumbled. "He asked me if Shane could sing."

Kurt's eyes widened. "…you're saying…"

"It was just a _thought_—at least I'm _praying_ it's just a thought," Blaine answered, looking a little huffy. "He asked me why Shane was in another school while I was in this one. I told him it was Shane's decision to go to Walcott—he didn't tell me why."

"He asked if Shane would consider a transfer to Dalton?" Kurt smirked.

"Please don't start scaring me, Kurt, really, it's too much," Blaine dropped his face into his hand as they arrived at the front steps and found the other boys waiting for them there. "I've been in school with Shane before and I can tell you right now that it prepped me for entering Windsor."

"What's this about me?" Shane grinned as they reached them.

"Nothing," Blaine answered coolly. "That you're a handful."

"Apparently I am," Shane said ruefully to Reed, who just laughed at him. "Always been. I've got a long, documented history of handful-ness."

At the word "history", a thought flashed into Kurt's mind and he turned to Blaine immediately. "And speaking of telling each other everything, I met a girl today who was looking for you. Said you had history with her? What was that all about?" He crossed his arms over his chest.

Blaine looked at him, puzzled. "A girl?"

Even Shane looked surprised and turned to his brother. "Don't tell me that one of your fake dates actually tracked you down."

"What? No!" Blaine stared. "I would've heard about it—"

"Wow, this family history goes a little further than we assumed…" David stared at the two Andersons.

"Well there was a talking flower looking for Blaine earlier," Evan commented, tilting his head. "Brown hair, nice stems, very pretty with long brown hair."

"_What_?" Blaine asked, confused and avoiding the intense stare from Kurt.

"_That_ talking flower!" Ethan suddenly said, pointing.

And that she was. The girl Kurt had met earlier was running through the slowly dispersing crowd of the fairground towards Blaine in a direct line, looking wildly elated. "Blaine!" she cried, waving.

Blaine looked up and saw her, momentarily startled, and then his face immediately lit up in absolute amazement. "Oh my god… Rebecca! I don't believe it!" He ran forward and immediately hugged her as she reached him. She kissed his cheek and patted his shoulders, looking very delighted.

Kurt's jaw dropped. Blaine looked thrilled. "What—when did you come? How long have you been in Ohio?"

"Rebecca?" Shane said, looking also surprised and quite happy.

"Shane's here too!" Rebecca burst out, looking even happier as she also gave him a tight hug. "I thought you went to school in Colorado!"

"I do—came for a visit—"

"Hello, we're still in the dark here," Kurt prompted to his boyfriend, who jumped. Blaine laughed a little. "Oh, no, Kurt it's not like that. This is Rebecca, she's—"

He was cut off by the wildly excited girl. "Finally, Blaine! We've been looking for you everywhere in this fair, you wouldn't stand still for a minute!" She immediately turned behind her and started waving, jumping up and down as excitedly as Shane did earlier. "Honey! Sweetie, over here! I finally found Blaine!"

That was when a lovely girl in jeans, running shoes and a leather jacket approached, her beautiful red hair free over her shoulders. If Kurt thought Blaine looked amazed when he saw Rebecca, it was _nothing_ compared to the shock he had now upon seeing the redhead.

"Oh my god…_Erin_!" Blaine gasped, immediately grabbing her into a hug without hesitation. "Oh my god, you're here! You're actually here!"

"I actually am!" the redhead laughed, hugging him tightly back. "It's been _so long_! Man, Blaine, this is—I'm so glad to see you again! Been ages!" She stared at him, hands on his shoulders. "…and you haven't grown an inch."

"You—!"

"_Erin_!" Shane burst out and tackled the girl to the ground to Reed's amazement.

"Hot _damn_—you're here too, you little wiggleworm?" the redhead grumbled from the ground. "Have you changed at _all_, Shane? Either of you?" But she snorted back a laugh as she got up with him, clearly pleased to see him.

"Erin…?" Reed whispered to Kurt, wondering if his friend knew any more than he did. Kurt thought back for a moment and looked at Reed, realizing. "Erin…? As in…from your old school Erin?" Kurt added, staring at Blaine. "One of your 'Fabulous Five'?"

"You still call us that?" Erin asked Blaine, her expression softening a little.

"Of course I do," Blaine answered with a smile. Rebecca looked pleased at the response, smiling and squeezing Erin's hand. "See?" she said, leaning her head on Erin's shoulder. "I told you he'd be same as ever."

"Same with you two," Shane snorted as Erin slipped an arm around Rebecca's waist to give her a quick kiss on the lips. The relationship between Erin and Rebecca dawned over everyone instantaneously—the twins groaning a little in understanding at why they were so rebuffed earlier, and what she actually meant by "girlfriend".

Erin suddenly broke away from Rebecca. "Oh what am I doing? I haven't gotten to the most important part!" She grabbed Blaine's hands. "You're never going to believe this—I swear, you're not."

"Please tell me you're not transferring to Dobry Hall or something," Blaine said, almost afraid of the answer if he was going by the red-haired firecracker's eagerness.

"What the hell is Dobry Hall? No!—I mean—shut up for five seconds!" Erin looked as wildly elated as Rebecca, who Shane was introducing to a still-confused Reed. "We knew we had to come here straight away to tell you!"

"Tell me what?" Blaine stared. "Are you parents taking you back? Are you running again? Olympics? What?"

"Wow, you don't shut up."

"I do try to make him, sometimes." Kurt answered.

"And this must be the boyfriend Becca told me about," grinned Erin, scooping Kurt up into a quick bear hug. "Aaah, finally. Word of advice: when he starts doing crazy things like climbing furniture, just pull him down, he'll be fine. Distract him from his internal crazy."

"I do, a lot, apparently," Kurt smirked at Blaine, who turned crimson.

Erin waved it away and said, "What am I saying? I still haven't told you!"

"Told me _what_?" Blaine finally demanded.

Reed stared at Shane, wondering why he was standing there, white as a sheet and unmoving. He looked like he was in shock. He touched his hand. "Shane? Shane, what's wrong?"

Rebecca turned around with the others, smiling as she did when she saw what Shane was staring at. "He's here."

"He…?" Reed asked.

Kurt stared at the tall, lean, brown-haired boy that walked up to them, dressed in rather nice preppy clothes and wearing a pair of gold-rimmed glasses. His smile was kind, but his eyes looked tired. But those eyes have yet to ever leave Shane.

"We found him, can you believe it?" Erin hissed wildly to a similarly-stricken Blaine. "We thought we'd never see him again but we _found him! _We ran into him in a San Francisco book convention!"

Shane was rendered mute and paralyzed. Reed stared from him to the tall boy and back again. "Shane?"

The tall boy smiled at Shane, looking rather apologetic. "…hi."

Shane unstuck his throat, his voice sounding distant. "…you…"

Kurt looked at Blaine, who said, utterly floored, "…Micah."

Erin and Rebecca were grinning eagerly, and all the other Windsors looked confused. But Kurt knew who Micah was, and, from the look on Shane and Blaine's faces, and as he now turned his small roommate, who looked anxious—as though he was starting to make a terrible and accurate guess—that they weren't out of the woods at all.

They had only just gotten in.

* * *

It was late. The grounds only had the few students who were still willing to take down all the fair stuff—the others had given up and collapsed into their dorms. Bailey was just about ready to take down the recording booth when he heard someone come up behind him. "Hey, Tipton."

The Stuart Warbler turned around and found Julian standing there, looking a little pale faced, hands in his pockets. He was alone. Surprised, Bailey said, "Oh hey, Julian. What's up? You look kind of…sick. You didn't have those cookies, did you?"

"No, nah…" Julian smiled a little. He really did look subdued and Bailey was just about to offer to take him to the clinic when Julian said, "Hey, can I… uh…" He paused then just shrugged and gestured to the music booth a little despondently. "…do you think I can try that? Before you take it down?"

Bailey looked at him incredulously. What did Julian need a student-made recording booth for? He could probably book a recording in one of the hundred studios that would be more than willing to have him. "You making a CD?"

"…Yeah, whatever you want to call it…" Julian murmured, eyes to the ground. "Is it okay?"

He was even asking permission. And from everything that Bailey heard and knew, he was sure that it was finally breaking Julian down. "Sure…I mean… if you want to." He gestured to the booth. "You want me to broadcast?"

"What for…?" Julian muttered. "…no one is going to listen."

The grounds _were_ practically empty, but Bailey was sure that this wasn't quite what Julian meant. He felt a little guilty, knowing his secret now. But if it would make him feel better… "Okay. What are you singing?"

Julian told him. Bailey felt worse now. "Julian…"

"What?"

He wasn't supposed to know anything. He was supposed to be another oblivious Stuart. But he wanted _so badly_ to ask what was in Julian's mind right now. Why else would he want to sing by himself, cold, late in the night? He was singing to someone that would never listen, who would never know. Bailey was sure now, if he hadn't been before, that Julian had every intention of leaving.

He didn't think it would go this badly. He really thought they would fix this.

The actor in the booth sat down at a tall stool that was put there, and slipped on the headphones, eyes closed and oblivious to the fact that his classmate outside was really upset. There was enough distress in himself to even notice that Bailey was showing every sign of knowing his secret.

Kurt had the right idea—singing, that is. Maybe it would help. It was a long shot—a really long shot—but he'd tried every other way to feel better about it. For the first time since Freshman year, faced with the presence of actually being able to detach and just vanish, he couldn't push down what he felt: that feeling of being crushed underfoot and being overlooked.

He couldn't cover it up with bravado—Kurt saw right through him—he couldn't cover it up with acting like a jerk—Derek found him transparent—and he couldn't even cover it up from some fanboy new kid who didn't even know him—Adam knew it and he said so when he was with him at the steps.

Only the person who really _mattered_ didn't notice. But how could he?

Well…it won't matter anymore. He was saying goodbye.

He caught Bailey's eye, and nodded to him. Bailey, still not liking this, just sighed to himself and played the track. As the music played, he kept his eyes intent on Julian as he carefully reached out, and hit a button the glowed red, marked "record".

Julian leaned forward to the mic, eyes closed, one hand to the headset, ready to sing within Dalton walls for one last time.

_The time is right; I'm gonna pack my bags_

_And take that journey down the road…_

_Cause over the mountain I see the bright sun shining_

_And I want to live inside the glow_

_Yeah…_

Bailey sat, listening to Julian sing. He _was_ an amazing singer. But that was the problem—people who were amazing singers expressed so much emotion when they sang. And the way Julian was singing now… he almost felt he was intruding on something very private. It was something he'd never seen or expected from the lordly celebrity. He wanted to stop recording—because it was recording much more than just Julian's song.

It was recording him as the person no one will ever really see.

_I wanna go to a place where I am nothing and everything…_

_That exists between here and nowhere…_

_I wanna go to a place where time has no consequences oh yeah_

_The sky opens to my prayers…_

Julian couldn't remember packing very well. He remembered taking his clothes and personal things, and putting them into the suitcase and travel bag. He remembered leaving his uniform, schoolbooks, and all the other stuff that wasn't really his behind.

Or for that matter, everything that had the slightest remembrance of his time in Dalton Academy.

_I wanna go to beautiful, beautiful, beautiful…_

_I wanna go to beautiful, beautiful, beautiful…_

He remembered taking the stack of photographs by his desk. There wasn't a lot of it, but each one involved him, Derek and Logan, all the way from Freshman year. Derek said that if you flipped through them, you'd actually watch them grow a little bit taller.

Julian was in those photos the least. Mainly, Derek and Logan were present. And so the actor held them out carefully over the dustbin and let go.

He wasn't even around enough for them to miss anyway. And why should they…? What had he ever done that was worth missing him for anyway? Seriously now—

—would Logan even notice?

_I wanna go to beautiful, beautiful, beautiful…_

_I wanna go to beautiful, beautiful, beautiful…_

Derek came into Stuart House after talking to Murdoch in South and Main. He was desperate to get some rest. So his girlfriends caught up to him and he had a lot of explaining to do. It was over now.

He stopped when he saw the suitcases by the side of the doors to Stuart, tucked inconspicuously at the corner of the foyer. He felt his blood burn at the sight of the tags. He knew who those bags belonged to and immediately raced upstairs, going through the corridor.

Before he could even call out his name, he stopped again. He saw Julian standing in front of Logan's room. The light was on in the room, it filtered through a crack at the bottom of the door. But Julian was just standing there, at the door, staring at the light under it.

_Please understand that it's not that I don't care_

_But right now these walls are closing in on me…_

Derek watched, heart sinking, as Julian continued to stand there. He stared at his friend, mentally willing him on. _Go. Come on, you can do it. Just knock on the damn door, Julian, come on. You have to tell him. You __**have**__ to!_

For a moment, when Julian lifted his eyes and one of his clenched fists moved as though to reach out to the door, Derek wanted to jump.

Then Julian shook just slightly, and took a fraction of a step back, closing his eyes and taking in a shaking breath.

He couldn't. He just couldn't. It was too hard. And it was too far to fall.

Why was he crying? He wanted to punch himself—why couldn't he _stop_? He wanted to scream at his tears to stop falling. Because this was stupid—this was _nothing_.

It was always, always—would always be—_nothing_.

_I love you more than I love life itself…_

_But I need to find a place where I can breathe_

_I can breathe…_

Derek saw the tears falling and lowered his eyes. He let out his breath, and walked to his friend, who might've known all this time that he was there. He came up to him, and gently put his arm around his shoulders. Julian sank against him, shaking.

"Sorry, D…" he choked. "I was just being—" _An idiot._

"It's okay…" Derek murmured at last, voice so low that only Julian could hear. He shook his head. "…it's okay, Jules… You tried. At least…at least you tried." That counts for something. He wasn't going to push him. It was too hard to watch.

He led him away from the door, as silent as they came. The person on the other side would never know they were even there.

_I wanna go to a place where I can hold the intangible_

_And let go of the pain with all my might…_

_I wanna go to a place where I'm suspended on ecstasy_

_Somewhere between dark and light_

_Where wrong becomes right…_

Bailey watched from the common room as Julian, wrapped up in a thick coat, passed with Derek in the front hall. He rose from his chair, brow furrowed. Tonight? He was going tonight? Did Logan know? He looked up to the staircase the two had just descended. There was no movement upstairs…

From his room, Logan sat oblivious. His thoughts weren't anywhere near Julian at this moment. He was pondering a text message he wasn't expecting to receive.

It was from Blaine.

'_Kurt wants us to talk. All three of us. He wants to know everything. I'm willing to tell him my side. But I don't know yours.'_

Logan rested his elbows on his desk and turned to the window, wondering.

_I wanna go to beautiful, beautiful, beautiful…_

_I wanna go to beautiful, beautiful, beautiful…_

Bailey watched Derek help Julian pick up the bags in the foyer, Julian taking the travel bag and Derek taking the suitcase. He watched Derek give Julian a long look without saying a word, asking in silence if his friend really wanted to do this.

Julian stood in front of the door a moment, lost in thought, and he looked at Derek at last with a small nod.

He pushed the door open.

_I wanna go to beautiful, beautiful, beautiful…_

_I wanna go to beautiful, beautiful, beautiful…_

The air was cold, and bitter. Dalton was quiet as ever at night.

From Stuart House, Julian fell back onto Derek with a startled gasp, clutching onto his friend who looked on in horror: splattered all over the Stuart House front steps was what looked like crushed red roses, petals torn and folded everywhere, and scarlet liquid painted the ground, black in the moonlight.

A mutilated photograph of Julian—taken from the school paper—lay on the steps.

Derek hissed a curse and pulled Julian back inside quickly, looking around the grounds for any sign of who did it. He pushed Julian inside, and immediately closed the door as he went to go get a bucket of water to get rid of the "gift".

Julian sank against the wall, heart in his throat. It was worse now. He knew it was worse now that the message was loud and clear.

He couldn't leave.

* * *

And a ways off, far over the grounds, in the quiet of the night, red droplets gleamed on the steps of Hanover House. Justin Bancroft didn't notice as he went in, pulling his sister along and anxious to give her a serious reprimand. But Laura Bancroft noticed. She saw the droplets of red, confused, wondering if it was paint.

She saw that the trail went into the house, and up the stairs.

The last thing she saw before Justin pulled her into the common room was a glimpse of Adam Clavell, staring out of the second floor window that faced Stuart House.

* * *

_**In the next episode**: Last year, a boy came to Dalton Academy. He was transferred in from Stanton High School. He had arrived to flee bullies from his own school, looking for sanctuary. He was assigned to Windsor House, where he first meets its crazy occupants, and meets the tall lead singer, Logan Wright. The story of last year would be told by many people to Kurt, who believes he deserves to hear exactly what happened that brought them all to this point._


	24. Unforgettable

_Hello, I'm CP Coulter and I'm your author for this fic._

_I always begin with an apology, and now, more than ever, for the record-breaking delay that this next arc (for it has to be an arc, no longer an episode) has taken. I always keep meaning to put things in a single episode, but when I broke thirty one thousand words, I knew that the crazy had to be split down yet again. The story of Blaine and Logan from last year is two things at once-the boys telling Kurt the story as Kurt tries to find his way through their threads, and at the same time hold the present world together as things begin to get even more complicated for everyone._

_In itself, this is not an excuse. I should have realized sooner or managed better, so I could post this episode up sooner. I apologize for the delay, and I understand that many of you got very angry and unhappy about the state of affairs. I am resolute in finishing this series, hell or high water, and I will strive to do everything I can to stop this kind of delay from happening again. Again, I apologize deeply and I continue to be truly truly grateful for everything that everyone has given me. It has come a long way from the first episode when Warblerland opened into a strange place with strange people and our "Alice" learning about each of them. So many things have changed and grown and I can barely recognize them myself._

_It seems that the complexities are coming to a head, now in the latter part of the story. As it draws to a close, it seems it is always darkest before dawn. I am grateful for your continued patience with me, and for the words of support and kindness. I continue to thank the Dalton Academy Warblers for taking the time out to read and acknowledge my work, and I thank Aaron Page and Riker Lynch especially for their words of kindness in a recent video. _

_I would like to thank the kind folks of Tumblr for putting up with me and my...hysteria (Dalton!verse gets extended and further explored in **cpcoulter. tumblr. com**, so if I don't update here, there are more things to see over there). I'd also like to thank my Beta reader, who, like me, sleeps at strange hours. (I will not name her, because I don't want her getting a barrage of questions about the forthcoming episodes)_

_I want to thank my friends and readers, and those whose words have kept me going when I felt lost and frightened. I will be worthy of your kindnesses someday._

_And I continue, as always, to hope that you will enjoy this first part of the Flashback._

* * *

**Dalton**

**Episode 24 - ****Unforgettable**

* * *

_My name is Kurt. And this is Dalton Academy._

_Last year, a boy came to Dalton Academy seeking sanctuary, just like I did. _

_He was late, he held an old pocket-watch, and the Twins called him the "White Rabbit."_

_And for the first time, I get to hear exactly what happened._

* * *

"Come on, you guys!" Charlie snapped as he went into the common room and found it half in shreds once again. "Class just let out and it already looks like a bomb hit this place! Put all this stuff away." He nudged a playstation controller on the floor disapprovingly.

The Twins were methodically pelting everyone trying to study once again, while Wes and David were arguing over a walkthrough—pages scattered in all directions—for a Final Fantasy game that Han had provided for them, the game itself going forgotten. Dwight had already finished salting the sanity out of the room and was once again holed up in his own dorm room. Reed was staring out the window distantly.

"Are any of you listening?" Charlie demanded.

A muffled explosion rumbled through the house. No one looked up. Charlie kept glaring at the boys even as he, without looking up, picked up the nearby fire extinguisher and handed it to Drew who promptly arrived for it, and disappeared just as swiftly. "Seriously, it's already past the Fair, playtime is over. Don't any of you have stuff to take care of for Parents' Night?"

"My folks never come, my sisters do," Wes retorted before looking back to the sheets in his hand.

"Same," Evan added, without looking up from where he was hidden behind the couch and pelting an innocent Windsor.

"Except we have just one," Ethan nodded, at the other end of the room, aiming very carefully for the back of David's head.

"That doesn't matter!" Charlie burst out, kicking away some of the foam bullets on the floor. Upstairs, the sound of the fire extinguisher hissed. "You Warblers should be practicing, right?"

When Wes and David and the twins failed to respond, Charlie turned to the presumably sane one. "Reed. Practice?"

"None today…" Reed murmured, not looking up. When he sighed and leaned his head onto the glass, it was just in time to evade a flying Nerf bullet. "…Miss Medel isn't feeling well… Mr. Harvey is out…"

"And your exhibition paintings?"

"Shh!" this time the whole room chorused, staring up at him incredulously.

Charlie blinked. A closer look at Reed already revealed the little artist's clothing and hands bespattered with paint. He looked tired, wan and incredibly distant, and he stared on occasion into his phone.

The prefect sighed. "Is this also the…uh…Shane thing?" he whispered aside to one of the twins.

But before they could answer, Reed got up and left without another word. It was as though he was now scalded by the name even being mentioned. He fled the common room and his feet could be heard going up the stairs—a trip of the feet, hand hit the wooden steps, a hiss of pain and frustration—and he was upstairs and gone.

"He's tired, he's upset," Evan said carefully.

"He's just working things out," Ethan answered.

Suddenly, Wes did a double take when he looked up to the common room doors. He rose with a frown. "What's going on here?"

Charlie turned around. He saw Kurt standing there, with Blaine. And next to Blaine was Logan. Charlie frowned as he now faced the three of them. Only Blaine looked slightly apprehensive, and Logan wasn't even looking at Charlie. Kurt, however, leveled his gaze at the prefect. "If it's all right, we'd like to talk. Here. The three of us."

"Is there a problem?" Charlie asked, crossing his arms over his chest and eyeing the unusual trio.

"We just have some things to discuss. It's a private matter, and it can't be done in Stuart because Blaine and I are most likely unwelcome there."

He seemed to pointedly ignore the fact that in all likelihood, Logan wasn't welcome at Windsor either. But Kurt knew that the maneuver would place the ball in the Windsor Prefect's court. Logan was the one who agreed to come, which clearly means he's put himself in Windsor's power. They were only going to talk peaceably, and it would be bad form for Charlie to bring the hammer down.

Charlie glowered at Logan for a moment but looked at Kurt calmly. "Fine. In there." And he gestured to the common room.

"Yes, why don't we go to the viper pit where it's safer," Logan muttered just audibly at the sight of Windsor eyes all staring hard at him.

Kurt only gave him a sidelong glance as he went into the room, speaking with authority—because to back down now will get them nowhere. "We'd like some privacy please, if that's all right?"

The Windsors all gaped at him. Then all eyes flew to Blaine, who was the one more heavily involved. Blaine only gave Logan a glance as well before nodding to the others. "Come on, guys. We just want to talk this out."

David did not look thrilled. Neither did Wes. They would sooner trust Blaine and Kurt in a room with a tiger than to leave them alone with the time bomb that was Logan. But the Tweedles rose from where they were hiding and calmly brushed themselves off. "I'm bored," Evan declared.

"Let's go watch something in Blaine's room," Ethan nodded with a smile around the common room.

The Twins gave everyone a pointed look and strolled on out of the room. Kurt wondered if he was seeing things—but he was sure that one twin flashed Logan a very brief smile, and that the other twin clipped him slightly at the elbow in a gesture that looked mostly accidental, and in any other circumstance, almost encouraging.

With that one act, the Twins proved that there was still more under the surface of all this.

The other Windsors followed the two blond boys out. Wes paused as he passed Blaine, as though asking with a stare, "Are you going to be all right?"

Blaine just nodded once and waved them on. David followed after Wes, only giving Kurt a quick look before he left. Charlie was the last Windsor to go.

"We'll be fine," Kurt told him calmly.

Charlie looked at the three of them for a long moment, and then simply said, "…hope you three can work this out." And he too left the area.

Kurt then grabbed both boys by the sleeves of their blazers and pulled them into the common room. He sat Blaine down at one end of the sofa, and then Logan at the other end. With the same everlasting composure, he pulled a chair up and sat in front of them both. The two stared at him, baffled.

A delicate eyebrow was raised. "I'm waiting."

Blaine laughed hollowly at his boyfriend. "What did you want us to say?"

"You said you were going to tell me everything about last year," Kurt said. "So you're going to tell me everything."

"It's a long story, Kurt," Logan said patiently.

"Well I don't expect to hear it all in one night," Kurt replied easily. "I do expect, however, to be told everything. So if this is going to be a long story, you both better start talking."

And now, Blaine and Logan looked at each other, a little unsure. "Uh…"

"You can start, Blaine," said Kurt, leading them into the story. The tone was sweet, but the eyes promised Blaine problems if he kept his beloved waiting. Blaine stared at him, wide-eyed, for a moment, and then sighed deeply.

"All right. Fine."

Logan just nodded.

Blaine leaned forward. "Well. I met him…when I first came to Dalton."

* * *

_Last year..._

The school looked more imposing from the inside. When looking from the outside, it looked distant, as though it was closed off from the rest of the world and was therefore unreal. Now, standing within the gates, it felt too alien. Boys wearing uniforms milled about, the shiny badges they were wearing flashing in the sunlight. They laughed easily, looking completely at home…

…whereas Blaine Anderson felt like a plant uprooted and replanted into the wrong garden patch.

_Well. No good just standing here,_ he decided, running a hand through his unruly curls and feeling completely out of place. It sounded convincing, but his body didn't obey until a few seconds later, when he was prompted by some boys racing past him into the school. He had to follow their example. How else was he supposed to fit in?

And so, with his sneakers crunching into the gravel, Blaine hitched up his backpack and went in with all the purest intentions. He tried to feel normal, to get used to the atmosphere of pure elite academia, but when the tie felt like it was strangling him, the blazer felt it was stifling him, and he was being given odd looks, there was just no way to feel normal.

He looked down at his papers. _Windsor House_, the house assignment said. But the school was a lot bigger from the inside. Where in the world _was_ that? And of course he'd choose this day to forget the pamphlets that he'd pored over for weeks before making the transition. The ones with the map of the school? Naturally.

He sighed. At least it forced him to interact. He was going to have to ask someone.

He looked around for a moment to find someone who looked harmless enough to ask. As the new boy, the student body food chain placed him on the bottom link. Isn't that how it is everywhere? Better safe than sorry.

But as he walked on, past the massive building, he saw that a number of them were racing towards the courtyard area not too far off. They looked excited and eager.

"They've already started!" called one boy. "Come on!"

"Definitely going to make it to Nationals this year!" hooted another one.

"Come on, come on!"

It looks as though there was someplace more important to get to—the boys were evacuating out of the central building as though there was a fire. Blaine, confused, caught one boy as he ran past. "Hi! Um. Sorry. I'm new. What's going on? Is there an assembly?"

The boy was kindly-looking and brown-haired, and had bright eyes. "Oh, you're new too, huh? It's okay, don't look so scared."

"Haha…sorry. Uh, assembly?"

"What? Oh, no, the Warblers are performing out over there. In the courtyard."

"Warblers?" Blaine stared, surprised.

"Oh they're our acapella group. They're amazing, the whole school is nuts about them. I'm totally trying out. I don't think I'll get in but—oh, just come on and see for yourself." He gestured for Blaine to follow and sped off.

Blaine was a little startled as he followed the other boy. The school had a glee club? The school had a _famous_ glee club? Seriously?

As he followed after all the other boys, he began to hear it—singing. A group of boys over at the large terrace that they all called the "courtyard" were already surrounded by an appreciative audience settled at the bottom of the short flight of steps. Blaine tried to get a better look at them. The boy he was following disappeared into the crowd.

Blaine looked around a moment, a little confused by the hubbub, but magnetized by the singing. He performed back in his old school, in Stanton High, but he didn't have an audience like this.

A flash of gold in the sun. His eyes landed on the lead singer. And he stared.

The blazer-clad boys were dancing to the beat of their own harmonies, voices soaring in the open air and their lead singer taking excellent command of them.

_And it's a crime to admit,_

_That she is ten times legit,_

_My friend's she's hotter than shh..._

_The sun is shining on me!_

The boys burst into movement behind the blond lead, their voices in perfect meld together.

_Anybody got a something so fine,_

_And the time's she's on my lips, Ohh—_

_Anyone that knows the woman's a dime,_

_Come and sing it with the rich, Whooo—_

Blaine stared at them. They _were_ really good. They were really amazing. Their blond lead was different from the rest of them, however—he really stood out. Not just because he was tall and he was incredibly good looking, which Blaine was going to have to admit was completely unfair considering he already had those pipes on him, but because he just seemed to be the best voice among them.

A flash of green eyes caught him—blindsided him. Blaine choked.

Did he just…look at him? Right at him?

He looked around himself—everyone was grooving to the beat. It couldn't have been him.

_I got it made in the sun baby,_

_Made in the sun sugar,_

_Made in the sun honey—_

When he looked up again, he saw that the lead boy was _still_ looking in his direction. And when he saw Blaine looking at him again, the smallest smirk seemed to appear at the corner of his lips.

What in the world…? He felt himself stare and grow a little hot in the face. This wasn't happening. This definitely was not happening.

The song was coming to a close and the lead boy did not look at him again for the rest of the song. It had to be entirely Blaine's imagination. That happened sometimes. He made up his own fantasies and sometimes got carried away. That was no good here in this school.

Of course…that didn't stop him from staring at the blond boy throughout the rest of the song either.

When they finally stopped, the crowd applauded and the Warblers grinned and congratulated each other. Blaine found himself applauding so hard that his hands were starting to hurt. But they were really amazing.

_Warblers… _Blaine tucked the name away for future reference. Once he got settled in this school, he really had to look into them. They were an excellent group and they were incredibly appreciated by the student body. The latter by far was more amazing. He stared into the distance, contemplating.

"Enjoy the show?"

Blaine jumped slightly and looked up.

Green eyes, piercing at him. He blinked. It was the lead singer. He was smiling a little at him and he just passed by as the other Warblers grinned at him and the whole crowd of boys was all starting to scatter back to their regular routines, elated by the performance.

"Uh…yeah." Blaine blinked. "You guys are great."

The singer just smiled and melted into the crowd. Blaine felt a bit of a surge of temporary insanity—it had to be those eyes, he'd never seen a pair so green before in his life—and ran after him a moment. "Hey! Wait a minute!" He caught himself, wondering if this was a good idea.

But the towering boy merely turned casually, not at all perturbed. "Hm?"

"I, uh…" Blaine collected his wits. The green eyes pierced into him like nothing else, studying him. He felt unsettled by them. "I'm…kind of new. I don't—do you know where Windsor House is?"

Now the boy looked amused. "Oh? So you're a new Windsor." And with the same cool, casual air, he simply gestured to the direction where some of the boys were going. "Those guys…with the blue shields on their jackets. Follow them."

Blaine looked to where he was pointing and blinked. He turned back to see the lead singer giving him a sidelong smile, turning away. As he did, Blaine saw the shield on his lapel—it was red crossed with white. So if the badges were the indicator…he wasn't from Windsor?

"Follow the Twins," the blond added, glancing at him a last time before walking off with other boys who had red shields. "Better hurry. You're late."

_Twins_…? Blaine was puzzled. He watched him walk off for a moment, a little mesmerized. He shook himself right out of it. This was ridiculous. What was the matter with him? So he had looks and a great voice—big deal Blaine, keep moving. Deal with that later.

He turned back to where the boy had pointed, and spotted what he meant. A pair of perfectly identical blond boys could be seen running towards a large dormitory some distance off. They were the same ones he'd seen among the performers.

Wait, what did that guy say? _You're late._

He looked at the sheet he was holding again, and then checked the pocketwatch his grandfather had given him. Yes. He was late. About fifteen minutes late. "Damn," he muttered and bolted off towards the dormitory.

* * *

"So you first met Logan…right on your first day." Kurt blinked, surprised. But he did not move from where he sat, legs crossed. "So when you say right from the beginning, you meant the _very_ beginning."

"I did say it was going to be a long story." Blaine smiled slightly.

At this, Kurt now turned to the boy on the other end of the sofa. Logan was studying Blaine, but when he saw Kurt looking, he turned his eyes to him and said, "In case you were wondering…yes, I had actually been looking at Blaine. I'd never seen him around before, and…he had this…" Logan was trying, and failing, not to smirk. "…fascinated expression."

He paused momentarily. Clearly his medication was taking effect. If there was any time to get him talking, it was now. "…I also may have been flirting a little. Just a little. You know how I like an appreciative audience."

Blaine dropped his head into his hand, elbow resting on the arm of the sofa. It was hard to tell if he was annoyed or embarrassed. But Kurt looked a little puzzled, and a little intrigued. Logan now smirked a little more and kept his eyes trained on Kurt.

"He also didn't look as…cleaned up. As he does now. Still raw, that guy."

"Logan—" Blaine now glared, but his ears turned red the way Shane's did sometimes, "Can I continue or do you want to tell it for me?"

Kurt bit his lip to not smile.

* * *

The two identical boys that he had seen were now resting by the doorway, grinning at each other about something and talking as they easily passed a soccer ball between them. They were an interesting pair—they could pass the ball to each other by kicking it lightly into the air towards the other, and carry on a conversation at the same time. They knew each other well enough to know where and when the other was tossing it.

Tentatively, Blaine pulled up his backpack again. The large plaque did state _Windsor House_, but it never hurt to be sure, and the two boys were in the way at the door. He shook off the nerves, plastered a big smile on his face and walked up to the pair.

"Excuse me. Hi. I'm, uh…supposed to go to Windsor House?"

The Twins looked at each other and down to the shorter boy with all the curls. Their ice blue eyes were startling and when they aimed them at Blaine, he had the feeling that they were both scrutinizing him intensely.

Their identical eyes landed on the pocketwatch still resting in Blaine's hand, and there was instant approval that lit up in their faces simultaneously. They both cracked grins. "Well you're at the right place." They looked up. "Hey Chaz? Fresh meat!"

Blaine felt a little apprehensive at the term. It was one he'd heard before in his old school s a freshman. And the memories weren't entirely pleasant.

A taller boy came in, built like an athlete. Blaine felt his stomach drop. He had enough experience with jocks to have this Pavlovian reaction around them. Charles Amos, came into the foyer, tie loose and shirt hanging out again. His face split into a big grin and he looked good-natured when he did, allowing Blaine to relax a little. "Ah! The newbie! Was expecting you! What was your name again? Blake? Blair?"

"Blaine," the boy responded. "Anderson."

"Blaine! Right. I'm Charlie." He shook hands with him—he had the strength of someone who must be a varsity player of some kind—"Prefect's not here, so I'm taking care of you for a bit. You're late."

The Twins were clearly restraining smiles—and failed. Charlie gave them an expression that seemed to just want to ask what they meant by that, but brushed it aside. He looked back to the newcomer. "But that's okay. Follow me. I'll give you orientation. And as much as possible…" he added as he led Blaine across the entrance hall, "…steer clear of the Twins now that you've caught their attention."

This puzzled Blaine, who had to resist looking back at where the identical blonds stood. "Why, what's wrong with them?"

"The easier question is what isn't."

Blaine nodded slowly, taking that in and avoiding the ice blue looks that followed him as he went with Charlie's long strides. "Hey can I ask you something?" he added hastily, not sure if he should really be asking this so soon.

"Sure."

"Do you know that guy? That…the blond one outside?" He pointed outside the window, back to where the one with green eyes stood, laughing with the boys with the red shields. There were three of them there, but he was sure Charlie would have no problem identifying the one he meant—since the other two were brunets. One was stocky and tanned, built strongly—the other, Blaine had the unsettling feeling that he'd seen somewhere before. "He pointed me to this direction."

Charlie glanced out the window and snorted as he caught sight of the three boys making their way past and towards a different dormitory. "Him? Oh. That's Logan."

_Logan_… Blaine nodded slowly, still watching. "Is he in this dorm?"

"Nah. See the red shields? Those guys are from Stuart House. We've got the blue shields, Windsor. And now that you're in here, you'll be bleeding blue and gold." He grinned at the heraldry that dangled from the ceiling beams. "Why do you ask?"

"Nothing, he's…well, he's got a set of pipes on him." He said offhandedly, trying to be as casual as humanly possible. He was failing. He could tell. "I heard him sing with those other guys."

"Oh yeah. He does. He's a Warbler." Charlie eyed him and seemed to discern far more than he let on. "Well, whatever it is you've got for him, take care around him. He's a little intense."

Intense, huh… Blaine thought. He stared out at the sight for a moment before he came to his senses and realized the tone by which Charlie said it.

_Whatever it is you've got for him—_

He quickly turned to find the varsity player watching him intently. Blaine blanched.

Remember why you came here. Remember what happened back at your old school. Do you really want to be letting them in on the secret already? Zero-tolerance bullying policy or not…do you really want to expose yourself here? It's still all-boys. And you know none of them. You're alone.

If you're not careful—

There was an immediate flash of recollection.

_Black coffin. Rain. _

_Black umbrellas._

_The sight of Erin crying. Furious. Grieving._

_The feel of Shane's face buried in his shoulder—the tears hot, the rain cold._

_Seeing Micah getting up slowly after settling one calla lily onto the coffin._

_Jude was gone. Buried. Far from pain now._

_And himself…clutching onto an old camera as he sank it into the darkness of a wooden box full of old memories. The same way they sank Jude into his grave._

_The beginning of the end._

_Slowly…one after another…_

…_they all disappeared._

Blaine coughed, tearing himself away from the memories that caused him to run. It was over now. It would be safe now. They couldn't hurt him here…

…at least, that was what he hoped.

With lowered eyes, he turned to Charlie. "So…uh…what should I do now?" he asked carefully. "I should…get settled in and out of the way."

Charlie considered the new boy a little, and the sudden change of his attitude. He seemed alright just moments ago, but he decided not to press it for the meantime. This much was clear: he suddenly looked tired. So the older boy turned to the other paths in the entrance hall.

"That way leads to the common room. Everyone can stay there, hang out, pretty much spend your free time. We have some games set up there sometimes. But when curfew comes, everybody goes upstairs. Okay?"

Blaine nodded. Charlie gestured to some wooden doors past that. "That's the kitchen. You can keep stuff in the cupboards and the fridge, keep them labeled so people know they're yours… though I'm telling you, there will be instances when they disappear…" Charlie grinned.

Blaine just smiled faintly and nodded again. The less he made himself obvious to this suspicious upperclassman, the better.

Charlie noted the distinct lack of conversation now and cleared his throat. "All right, so, come on." He headed towards the staircase. "Your room's upstairs, on the second floor. When are you settling into the dorm? I take it that's not all your stuff." Charlie nodded towards the backpack Blaine had over his shoulder.

"No, it's not," Blaine nodded. "It's…um, it's going to follow later this afternoon. I told the movers."

"Parents not taking them to you?"

Silence. Blaine immediately flashed back to a different memory.

"_Blaine!"_

"_This is who I am, dad! It's not going to change now—it's not going to change! Ever! Why can't you just see that it doesn't change any—"_

_Body impacting gun cabinet._

_"Bart—!"_

_Wood splintering, glass smashing. A mother's gasp._

_"Please—he's bleeding, stop."_

_Half-laugh, half-sob. Smell of blood, dripping a little from the temple._

_"_…_it's not going to change me, or anything…"_

"We…um…my parents and I…have this thing where…I keep out of the way," Blaine answered, wondering how to even adequately answer the question.

Charlie did not pry. Instead, he nodded in the a way that was sympathetic. "Ah. I get you. Don't worry, enough people here have the same problem," he snorted.

_Do they now…? _Blaine wondered as he and the hulking upperclassman arrived on the second floor. The corridor was long and full of doors, broken by the occasional old-world pieces of décor that seemed to make Windsor House seem just that bit homier.

They passed a door just as an explosion rattled through the corridor. Blaine nearly jumped out of his skin and slammed himself onto a door across the hall, staring in alarm, heart thudding in his chest. "What the—?"

"Yeah, you'll get used to that," Charlie sighed deeply as he simply bent over to pick up a fire extinguisher nearby, utterly calm. He easily handed it to a boy in a scorched lab coat who emerged out of a doorway that was pouring smoke. "Hey, Drew."

"Hi, Chaz." The frazzled boy did a double take at Blaine, but simply turned around. His Asian friend from inside the room—goggles also scorched, was gesturing for him to hurry. The door slammed closed.

No fire alarm, no panic, no anything.

Blaine stared at Charlie in amazement. "Let's go!" the upperclassman said almost cheerfully as he resumed his walk. If Blaine didn't know any better, he'd swear that the guy found Blaine's panic amusing.

"Now usually, we get to do as we like in the rooms, as long as we can pay for damages and it doesn't actually harm anyone else in the dorm…" Charlie explained casually, as though this was supposed to answer for the complete disregard of sanity shown moments ago. "But you'll soon get used to the fact that aside from, Dalton's normal rules of conduct, Windsor has its own…survival manual."

Immediately, Charlie grabbed Blaine without even looking, pulling him away just as a maelstrom of nerf bullets flashed past them. And then the twins were running past, firing at each other and some other students in the dorm.

Blaine felt alarmed as the group raced past, bullets flying, but Charlie remained unfazed as he walked towards a particular door. "All right so, this is where you'll be staying. You have a roomie. His name is David. You'll get used to him." He rolled his eyes. "He usually has his friend Wes over—he's from Hanover. You'll get used to him."

Blaine did remember that there were three Houses. Windsor, Stuart, and Hanover. He felt surprised—didn't know that students from other dorms can go into others…

"Other guys can't really just bounce into other Houses," Charlie suddenly said, as though divining what he had in his mind. "But Wes is a different case."

"How?" Blaine blinked, a little startled that he was read so easily.

Charlie's smile was frozen. "We're not hostile to Hanovers." And he rapped on the door prior to using a key he took out of his pocket, and opening it.

Blaine was still trying to absorb that last piece of information—_Not hostile to Hanovers? So Windsor is hostile to Stuart…?—_when the door revealed a distinctly old-world-looking room, with four poster beds standing on dais, and a large central area where a couch and a table sat. He stared in surprise; he'd never seen a dormitory that looked like this before.

Everything was oppressively neat—the bed that a student occupied was neatly made, and all the books were alphabetized and arranged in neat stacks, along with what looked to be a mountain of paperwork (a terrible omen of the academic workload in Dalton, in Blaine's opinion) that was still in a neat pile.

The room was neat—but it seemed as though one of the people in the room was determined to make that different.

"Where is it?" demanded a boy of Asian origins, tearing the cushions off the couch and tossing them absently. Magazines on the table were picked up and dropped unceremoniously down. "Come on, David! Where did you hide them?"

"You're going to have to deal with the Newman exam on your own—I told you to pay attention in class!" the good-looking African-American boy picking up after his friend frowned. "I've told you a billion times, we can totally space out if he's just lecturing, but once he starts talking about the exam—" He got hit in the face with a couch pillow. "Wes!"

"David, I'm serious! If I don't pass that exam, dad will revoke my motocross privileges!"

"You need those privileges revoked! The way you drive on the road—you're not supposed to be traipsing around on your Desmosedici until you're sixteen—"

"What's the difference between now and four months?"

"_Four months, of course!_"

"Ladies!" Charlie glowered at them both when they continued to squabble like an old married couple. "You have a guest? A permanent one, hopefully? If Windsor doesn't drive him crazy…" he added under his breath, but Blaine heard.

Both boys looked up. They stared at Charlie. Then at Blaine. The one named David looked surprised. "Oh. Is this my new roomie?"

"You're getting a roomie?" the one named Wes immediately looked interested. They both advanced towards Blaine so suddenly that the new boy backed a step. They immediately stopped in their tracks.

"Okay…a little jumpy, isn't he?" grinned Wes. He looked at Charlie. "When Drew blew another one, did he—"

"Yeah, he jumped," Charlie tried not to grin. "So take it easy on him until he gets used to things?" He grabbed Blaine by the shoulder and pulled him towards the other two. "This is Blaine Anderson. He's in your year, I figure you'll be sharing some classes, so be nice?"

"Hi…" Blaine stared.

"I'm David Sullivan," said his new roommate with a bright smile. "I clean when I'm stressed."

"Which is often," his friend rolled his eyes, but he grinned at Blaine. "I'm Wes Hughes. I'm not from here."

Blaine, who had already been told, and had noted the white and gold badge on Wes' lapel, nodded. "Yeah, I heard…"

"Okay good! Introductions made…" Charlie looked around pointed to the empty bed on the other side of the room. "Blaine, you take that spot." He looked to David. "His stuff comes in this afternoon he says. You and Wes help him out, yeah?"

It wasn't actually a request. But David shrugged and grinned. "Sounds good. Get to know the newbie a bit more."

"Yeah and…keep an eye out—the twins seem to like him," Charlie added.

Both boys groaned. "Man…you're doomed." Wes shook his head.

"Why?" Blaine stared.

"You'll see what the Twins do to people they like."

* * *

"Which, I assume, is that manner they have when they force nerf gun battles at you and fill your room with coffee?" Kurt asked as he leaned back on the chair with a small smile.

"Fortunately, they didn't have a particular thing pegged down on me at the time," Blaine said with a smile. "But the Twins did hound me for the rest of the day. I felt like I was under a microscope or something."

"And you were rooming with David." Kurt considered this. "So Wes didn't move from Hanover yet…"

"It's not usual for a student to transfer Houses mid-year…unless they're transferring _out_ of Windsor," Logan said casually, leaning on his knuckles. "Stuart's had to catch a few driven nuts by this House."

"And you drive them even madder with pressure," Blaine commented. "I hear Marcus went ballistic in the library when all the calculus material got checked out."

"At least our kind of pressure is towards academics…not antics that slowly but surely break down a person's sanity."

"That's basically what we call _your_ method."

"Guys!" Kurt snapped his fingers. He raised his eyebrows at them. "What happened after that, Blaine?"

Now Logan began to smirk slowly. Blaine shot him a look, but cleared his throat and continued.

* * *

The classes were not difficult.

They were brutal.

Blaine sat at his Art History staring at a catching-up list that spanned three pages of single-spaced lines, with each task getting no more than three lines each and realized exactly what he had gotten himself into.

It didn't help that most of it came from his Literature class, and he had no idea why that giant of a professor got it in so badly for him. After he failed to answer two of the questions—how was he supposed to know that they were currently tackling James Joyce at this point in time?—the professor named Murdoch had given him a "catching up" list that was longer than his other work so far put together.

"Mr. Anderson?"

Blaine looked up, startled. "Yes, ma'am?"

The art teacher had called him twice now. Ms. Blumenfeld blinked at him, holding her open book, and prompted, "_Sunflowers_?"

He didn't understand for a moment, taken off-guard. What was she asking about them again?

"Van Gogh," came a very soft whisper from next to him. "Repetitions 1889."

Blaine immediately sat up and repeated exactly what was just whispered to him. Ms. Blumenfeld smiled and continued the topic, "And of course some critics also say that if it were not for certain pigments that had been developed around that time, Van Gogh would not have…"

Blaine relaxed, relieved. He glanced next to him and saw a small boy with strawberry blond hair playing with a paintbrush, twirling it in his fingers. He paid absolutely no attention to the lesson and seemed lost in thought. On his desk lay a sketchbook—one page filled with amazing watercolor figures, the other page, in distinct contrast, was a jumble of pencil sketches of what looked to be lots of clothes.

"Thanks…" Blaine whispered.

The boy turned to him and smiled with kind brown eyes. "It's okay."

Flash of a badge in the afternoon sun. Blue and gold. The boy was a Windsor. Blaine remembered what Charlie mentioned before continuing orientation.

_Windsors look out for each other. Everybody gets into trouble too often._

"Mr. Van Kamp?"

The boy turned his eyes to the teacher and in spite of being totally inattentive, made what was a nearly three-long answer about Van Gogh's _Sunflowers _series and Paul Gauguin. And sat back down, head lowered. The other boys just smiled as though they expected such a thing, and carried on listening.

While the mini-curator continued to look lost in thought and somehow distressed, Blaine wanted to ask him what was wrong when a balled-up piece of paper bounced onto his desk. Surprised, he picked it up and opened it.

_White Rabbit—Join us for tea?_

Instead of a signature, there as a drawing of a teacup.

Utterly confused, Blaine looked around. About three rows away, the blond twins from earlier grinned at him. But they relaxed and immediately pretended to be listening when Ms. Blumenfeld passed them.

_White Rabbit…_? Blaine wondered, confused. Was this even for him?

"They mean you."

Blaine turned behind him and met a pair of familiar bright eyes. A grin came with them. "The Twins. They've named you. Congratulations—your life is over."

"I…" Blaine recognized the boy he had met earlier in the day, the one who had led him towards the Warblers. "What do you mean?" he asked, a little alarmed.

At this instant, the melodious bell sounded over the halls, and everybody began to get up, preparing to leave. The blond twins scooted out of the room as quickly as they could, and the small curly-haired artisan seemed to sigh and scoop up his sketchbook before leaving the room with the tide.

The brunet boy, who stayed back, smiled at Blaine as they picked up their things. "Evan and Ethan Brightman have this thing where, if they particularly like you, they would give you a name." After a moment, he added, "Mainly…based off Alice in Wonderland."

"What do you mean, I'm doomed, though…?" Blaine asked, confused as he followed him out of the room.

The boy shrugged. "Well, when the Twins particularly like someone, they won't leave them alone. We have this theory that they were born into the world with the sole reason of driving people crazy."

"How?"

"Have you had your room filled yet?"

"'_Filled'_?"

And at this, the still unnamed Windsor grinned. "Whatever you do, don't let them figure out what you 'need'. They will unleash it on you until you're sick of it."

This was getting more cryptic by the moment. He stared at the other boy and noticed his badge. Also blue and gold. Another Windsor. The boy caught him looking at it, and grinned. "Oh. Yeah, I'm from Windsor. Don't worry, you'll get yours after the—" he seemed to catch himself in time. His eyes twinkled. "—the time limit."

He gave Blaine a last look, eyes landing on his sneakers. They were white and red, but the white parts had been covered with a massive jumble of felt tip messages that were now unintelligible, all written by the four most important people in Blaine's world.

"Cool shoes."

Blaine was the only person in the hall wearing sneakers. Everyone else was in leather. Blaine turned red, but the boy's tone was sincere. He waved. "See you around, then?" and he immediately hurried off to his next class.

"Wait!" Blaine called. "Who are you again?"

"I'm—"

And then, in the mass of students moving through the halls to go to wherever they had to, someone passed him, and then Blaine forgot the other boy instantly. A set of red-shields, boys from Stuart, were moving past—and Blaine instantly recognized the tall blond he'd earlier seen singing among them.

Logan.

He was listening to a good-looking tanned boy, who looked a little manic as he blabbed on about football, with great patience.

"Can you believe that?" the tanned boy demanded to him. "But seriously, I don't like Sullivan, but he'd be the best goalie in the league if he just—"

"You should stop getting worked up before you get a heart attack, Derek," Logan answered with the patience of someone who was used to listening to his perfectionist friend rant.

That was when Logan caught Blaine's gaze again. It was only a moment—piercing green eyes—but Blaine was sure this time: he had smirked slightly at him. And Blaine was sure, because the boy named Derek turned to where his friend was looking and then raised an eyebrow at Blaine, as though asking, "what are _you_ looking at?"

Blaine felt a surge of panic in his gut. Too obvious. Too obvious! He froze in his spot at the hall and tried to look elsewhere. His eyes landed on a pair of sepia-coloured eyes that looked at him with some interest. He realized it was the brunet that he was _positive_ he recognized from somewhere before. A little startled by the gaze, he watched as the boy on Logan's other side fell back a little to stare back at him.

And finally, when a smirk crept to the boy's face, Blaine recognized him through his familiar smile. Julian Larson. The movie star.

_They have people like that in this school? _Blaine wondered in amazement as the celebrity seemed to appraise him for a quick moment before following after Logan and Derek. As Blaine's eyes followed him, he realized that Logan was still looking at him. He felt a little unsettled. Could he tell?

"Hello, Blaine!"

He nearly jumped a foot into the air when identical voices sounded at either side of him. And then powerful grips grabbed his arms and pulled him away down the hall.

"You're coming with us!" said one of the twins, the one to his left, sounding very happy.

"We're going to help you unpack!" said the others.

"Someone said your things arrived!"

"So let's get you settled in!"

Blaine stared, completely taken off-guard. "What about—"

"Class? That can wait!"

"Settling in is more important!"

"Windsor calls!"

"We'll grab David along the way!"

"And Wes if we can!"

Blaine had basically no choice. So he went.

* * *

Kurt now turned his eyes to Logan, who had been listening carefully without appearing to, staring into empty space. When he felt Kurt's gaze on him, he looked up and asked, "What?"

"It's your turn," Kurt prompted.

"How is it my turn?"

"Clearly you had Blaine on your radar. You wouldn't have been giving him those looks if he hadn't been." Kurt crossed his arms and gave him a direct look as Blaine shifted uncomfortably from where he sat. "So tell me your side of what it was with Blaine. Were you really trying to get his attention or…?"

Logan sighed deeply, looking at the ceiling. "I feel like I'm in therapy again."

"Were you?" Blaine finally asked.

Logan glanced at him, then at Kurt, and his eyes turned distant again as he looked away, a small smirk playing on his lips. "I guess I was."

* * *

"What's the deal with that guy?" Derek murmured as he followed Logan. "And what's the deal with _you_?"

Logan was smirking to himself as they all headed towards the coffee area. His green eyes looked greener than ever today, and usually that happened when he was particularly fascinated by something. "I just thought he was…interesting."

"Interesting?" echoed Julian from next to him, raising an eyebrow. He rolled his eyes and ran a hand through his perfectly cared-for oak brown hair. "That's got to be the first time you've ever used that word to describe anyone. We were under the impression that you loathed the human race in general."

Logan shot Julian a dagger look before retorting, "I've used that word before. I've applied it on you. And Derek."

"Well, as much as we're deeply, truly honored that His Majesty has deigned us lowly ones _interesting_…" Derek raised an eyebrow, sarcasm dripping like venom from every word, "What makes the Windsor newbie any different?"

"Newbie?" Julian asked.

"Yeah, he must be. Did you see his shoes?"

"You sound like a girl sharing gossip," Logan snorted as he got his place in line to pick up the coffee order. Given the chance, everyone in Stuart would prefer to have coffee piped into their veins intravenously—that was how dependent some of them got. And more than one student from the other houses wondered if the school should be made aware about this level of caffeine addiction.

"No, seriously. They were sneakers. Not a lot of people bounce the uniform code like that."

"Sneakers, leather, wool stockings—who gives a crap?" Julian hadn't had his coffee today, but no one called his moments of snappishness as caffeine withdrawal. The behavior was more or less permanent. "You haven't answered the question, Logan."

"I don't have to," Logan answered calmly. "I find him interesting, that's all. …and he seemed to like the performance a lot."

The look on that new guy's face…was interesting.

Derek glanced at Julian, who looked back at him, a little surprised and apprehensive. But the actor said nothing. The coffee arrived and was handed out to each of them. Logan took a couple of sips before saying, "…pity he's a Windsor."

"Why?" Derek asked.

"It would be easier to keep an eye on him if he was a Stuart."

Julian rolled his eyes. "Don't tell me you're crushing on that guy."

Silence.

Derek looked up from his coffee cup, looking a little stunned. "…you're…you're not, are you? I mean you don't even know him. He might be a freak or something. You know how insane Windsors can be."

"I _am_ a freak, if you haven't noticed," Logan remarked, almost amused.

"We've noticed," Julian said coldly, with carefully gauged sarcasm in his voice.

Logan quickened his pace, clutching on his coffee cup. "I'm going on ahead."

"We have class—don't go wandering off again!" Derek said disapprovingly. Logan merely waved to him absently as he left, leaving Julian and Derek to wonder what happened.

* * *

"Where _did_ you go?" asked Kurt as he walked with Logan to the door of Windsor House. Curfew was approaching, and Logan had to go back to Stuart House for a House meeting. Rumor had it that the Stuarts were considering stripping him of Prefect title after all, and that it would pass on to one of the seniors (unlikely, all the seniors were buried under too much work), or to Derek (who was also buried under a lot of work, but would never turn down such a title).

Logan glanced at Kurt with a faint smile. "I may have gone to find out a little more about the new Windsor. It wasn't difficult. I talked to George Wong, the prefect at the time. He couldn't tell me much. I would have to actually ask a Windsor. Seeing as how I was a Warbler—it didn't turn out to be too hard. The Twins talk a lot, and so do Wes and David. But they didn't know him well enough to tell me more either. They just said he seemed a little…jumpy."

"You…really liked him after one look? Enough to do all that snooping?" Kurt asked, a little disbelieving as he stopped at the door.

Logan stepped out into the moonlight and glanced back at Kurt with a small smile. "Why is that strange? Didn't he like you the moment he saw you…?"

Kurt smiled a little at that, but quelled it with the next statement. "The story's far from over. I want the rest of it."

"And like I said…I'll tell you. I really don't see a point in keeping anything from you anymore…" He glanced at the sky with those clouded eyes and sighed. "Besides…I know you want me and Blaine to try and…work this all out. Maybe this'll help. Just…get it out of the way, or so to speak."

Logan went down the steps of Windsor, and Kurt watched him go for a moment, considering him. Logan really wasn't all that terrible altogether. People simply had the assumption that he was self-centered (and he was) full time. But it looked more like Logan was simply picking his own way through his haze, and if he didn't do things for his own interests…no one else would.

_No one?_

Kurt remembered Julian, and the talk they had down the hall. As he had predicted, the actor had not left. Or at least, that was what he heard from the Stuarts, who were discussing the actor's strange behavior.

Julian had not attended class after the Fair. And apparently, he had been holed up in his room, claiming illness. Derek was the only one who was admitted in. Even Logan—or, as it seemed _especially_ Logan—was not admitted into his room. Until Julian sprung out of his room again day or so later, (looking pale, shaken, and interminably quiet, as though he really had been ill). Logan had been particularly vindictive for being kept out the loop. There had been collateral damage as he took it out on everyone and the Stuarts feared for their lives for a while.

Kurt was sure that if the "illness" was dramatics over the problem Julian was having over Logan, this was a major exaggeration even by the primadonna's usual standards, and Kurt had heard quite a great deal about those.

This had to have been a first. The situation must somehow be worse than before. And so maybe it was that thought that compelled Kurt to ask. "Hey, Logan?"

The boy at the foot of the steps stopped. "What?"

Kurt crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the doorway. He wasn't one to out someone else. But he did have to ask: "…was Blaine the really the first one?"

"What do you mean?"

"The first person you were ever attracted to in this school? You made it seem like Derek and Julian were surprised to hear that you actually found someone interesting."

"As they should be," Logan shrugged slightly. "It would be the first time I've voiced such a thing out."

That was an odd way of saying it. Kurt considered this for a moment, eyes narrowed slightly, but he nodded. "Good night."

"Good night, then."

As Logan disappeared, Kurt reentered Windsor and found Blaine smiling at him a little from the entrance hall. He looked a little awkward, and Kurt smiled at him. "What?"

Blaine shrugged a little. "This story…it starts out okay… And then by the end…"

"I'll find that out for myself," Kurt answered him, allowing Blaine's hand to take his.

The two of them headed on upstairs and found the Tweedles still standing awake and standing in front of Kurt's dorm room, both looking a little worried. They paced before it restlessly, nerf guns slung at their sides.

"What are you guys doing wearing a groove in front of my door?" Kurt asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Dormouse," Ethan supplied.

"He said he doesn't want to sing for Parents' Night," Evan added.

"He said he's not going to audition," Ethan continued.

"Why not?" Kurt demanded. If this was going to be about Shane, he was going to lose it with his little friend. He wasn't blind—he could see how completely and utterly in vain Reed's show of congeniality during the introductions of Blaine's old friends had been.

He hadn't seen that kind of feigned stability since…

…well, since himself.

"_Kurt—" he felt Blaine's hand on the small of his back, leading him forward. Blaine looked pale and a little startled. "This is…" He looked up to the tall, brown-haired boy, who smiled hesitantly—as though he felt he wasn't supposed to be smiling at all. "This is Micah Randall."_

_**The one who disappeared…**__ Kurt remembered as he looked up at the boy. Micah smiled and shook hands with him, quiet and unassuming. And his eyes kept flicking back to Shane, who stood staring, completely immobile. And Kurt's eyes landed on his roommate, who looked in apprehension at the silent exchange between Micah and Shane. And it was clear that though he may not know everything—every glance told volumes. His hand shook just slightly from where it was holding onto Shane's._

_Blaine looked almost guilty as he saw them. It was Kurt who moved—he stepped forward and took Reed's hand carefully, pulling him away from Shane for a moment. _

_This stirred the younger Anderson back to life somewhat. "Wait…" Shane murmured as he felt Reed getting pulled away from him, but he glanced back from Reed to Micah and then only seemed hopelessly confused, not sure of what to do or even say. Micah was different. He stared unwaveringly at Shane and remained quiet, patient, as though he felt he was privileged to even be present._

_Shane seemed to move forward a little to Micah but abruptly stopped himself. To the surprise of the onlookers, Micah lifted his hands somewhat, as though to meet him if Shane really had moved forward, but they both stopped themselves at the same time._

_With guilt evident for the first time on his placid face, Micah's eyes turned to the cold ground. "…Shane…I think…I think we have to talk."_

"_Yeah," Shane managed to choke out, pulling himself back to reality. "We do."_

_It was when Reed was then standing next to Kurt that those brown eyes lifted and asked the taller boy unspoken questions. __**What is going on? **__those eyes seemed to ask. Kurt wished there was an easy answer._

_The introductions finally properly began when Blaine realized that the Twins were glaring at him in a prompting manner. Everyone was introduced to Blaine and Shane's old friends. While Erin and Rebecca remained perfectly cheerful and talked to the others as though they have been friends for a long time, Micah politely shook hands with the other boys and volunteered no information about himself. _

_When Micah came to Reed, it was he who introduced himself first with a small smile. Reed stared up at him for a moment then seemed to shake himself and beamed in a manner that Kurt had seen once before: when he was smiling in agreement at whatever his mother said. _

_This show lasted until the walk back to the dorm, when everyone chattered everyone up about the fair, until Blaine had to go and see off his friends, who apparently were staying in a motel in Westerville (protests rose from some of the boys, offering to place them somewhere better, and at length, were accepted). _

_It fizzled to nothing when Shane turned to Reed and said a hasty goodbye, promising to explain soon. _

"_Shane…" Reed hastily glanced back to Micah, who stood speaking quietly to Blaine. "Who is he…?"_

"_Someone I…I thought I lost a long time ago." Shane squeezed Reed's hands, still looking confused. "I'll be back, okay? I promise. I'll, uh—I'll explain everything." And he gave Reed an odd look—one that couldn't be properly read, before he released the smaller boy and hurried back to where Blaine and the rest of their group stood._

_Reed stood staring after him, the previous countenance he had going into nothing._

He'd been quiet following that occasion, and Shane had not yet returned so far—Blaine said that his friends were changing places of stay, and as Blaine had class, it was Shane who took care of them for the moment.

While the thought of having the old friends together again after a year was pleasant—Kurt hadn't seen Blaine that happy since he agreed to be his boyfriend—having to watch Reed like that gave him a bit of a twinge.

"I'll handle this," Kurt declared. He turned to his boyfriend. "I suggest you get your little brother on the phone, or I might have to end up talking to him myself—"

"No—I—I got it," Blaine blinked, a little startled. He couldn't read all of Kurt's moods yet and if he was going to blow up like he did with Tabitha, Blaine would rather handle his own crazy brother. "I'll handle the thing on Shane's end. I'm going to see them soon anyway." He pulled out his phone and stepped away as Kurt opened the door to his own room.

If Shane wasn't planning on explaining then Kurt was going to. He strode into the room.

…and stopped dead.

Art apocalypse again. Never a good sign.

As he surveyed the pandemonium of art that currently was taking over the room, the Twins leapt forward and grabbed his arms, looking scared, because the last time Kurt stood stiffly quiet like that, he blew up on Tabitha. Kurt shot them a pointed look and the twins let go, hands up in surrender. "Okay…okay…"

Kurt took two steps forward and Reed popped up from behind his bed, clothes, face and hair streaked with paint, arms full of canvases. "It's okay! I'm fine. I'm okay. I'm cleaning it up. Please don't hurt me, Kurt." He stared with big brown eyes.

Kurt sighed deeply. "Reed—"

"I'm cleaning it up—I'm cleaning it up—I'm moving into the Dalton Museum and Art Hall. I'll do all my work there," Reed said quickly, still looking a little scared and hugging his work. He quickly moved towards the stuff in Kurt's side of the room and promptly tripped over the carpet. Kurt gasped, but Reed fell on his back.

"Did I ruin them? Did I break them?" He frantically sat up and looked at his art and found them reasonably unharmed. He looked relieved. "Thank goodness. I'm cleaning it all up, Kurt. I'm fine, I'm okay, calm and everything."

"You're the very picture of serenity," Kurt remarked, raising an eyebrow as he helped his friend to his feet. He swept up some of the paint tubes on his desk and deposited them into Reed's smock pockets.

"If you're here to ask about the audition—" Reed said as he picked up some rolled up work, "—it's because of this, okay? This." He nodded towards the mess.

"Because of all the artwork?"

"You've met my mother, haven't you?" Reed breathed, reasonably distraught as he went to the other side of the room where a crate was waiting. He dropped all the paintings into it. "Well, Parents' Night, I'm one of the highlight presenters, _she's_ going to be there—"

"You once prepped for a gala presentation _and_ rehearsed at the same time."

"Kurt, I seriously don't need any more pressure than I already have now!" Reed begged, flailing his arms.

"So this isn't about Shane?"

It had the desired effect. Reed jumped and tripped over a fallen bedsheet. "Oof!"

Kurt patiently waited until the shorter boy popped back up again, bright scarlet and brushing himself off. "I'm okay! I'm fine." He cleared his throat and swept up the paintbrushes lying on his obscenely expensive blanket. "No. This is not about him. It's just…pressure."

Kurt kept watching patiently.

Reed's shoulders drooped. "All right _slightly_ about him—" Kurt sighed and threw up his hands, "—but in my defense—I'm just saying—that he is one _of_ the many, many pressures and I decided to just unload one in favor of another."

"_Singing_ _lead _in front of all those important people?" Kurt spoke as though Reed was contemplating actual murder.

"Kurt, honestly, I love you, you're my friend, but I think you've got to really calm down. Singing lead isn't as big of a deal with me as it is with you, and if Harvey gave me the chance, I'd pass it to you in a heartbeat. And you know my mom doesn't approve of my singing."

"Dormouse, what did your mom say after Winter Fest?" the Twins asked from the door.

"'Adequate'," Reed responded absently as he tossed some more tubed-up artwork into the crate.

Kurt rolled his eyes. The performance had failed to move Hilde van Kamp. He would've thought that _his own_ contribution to it would've worked even partially. Then again, if Hilde had been that easy to bend, no one in Windsor would consider her a worthy opponent.

"Adequate," Kurt echoed with a snort. "Your mother may have the eye for fashion but clearly doesn't have the ear for music. And she was married to your dad! How can she not pay attention to you and music?" He was, of course, referring to Winston Davis, Reed's father, who was a well-known music producer.

"Maybe the Dormouse got all of the genes on that end," Ethan grinned.

"Maybe that's why she's so opposed." Reed rolled his eyes. "Dad's producing my stepbrother Clark and his band now…"

"Your stepbrother is _Clark Sawyer?_" Kurt stared. "The guy from Haven?"

"I thought Clark was still acting with Julian in _Something Damaged_?" Evan asked, confused.

"He is, but he's not quitting his boy band. The fans will kill him. Can we not talk about my complicated family life and talk about something else?" Reed went up to Kurt's bed where his friend now sat. "I heard you and Blaine brought Logan in the common room. What was that about?"

Kurt raised an eyebrow. "I wanted them to tell me what happened last year."

"That's a _very _long story, Alice," grinned Ethan.

"Then maybe you would be so kind as to continue where we'd left off?" Kurt looked at them with a smirk. "You two know practically everything that goes on around here." He looked at Reed. "And I'm sure you know some things. I know Blaine mentioned meeting you early on."

"Our little Dormouse wasn't as talky or involved then as he is now…" Evan happily plopped down onto Kurt's bed. "He was always so worried."

"I suppose I have Blaine to thank for helping Reed be a little more…sociable," Ethan nodded with a smile. "But you know, when no one knew he was gay yet, he was a little quiet too."

Reed agreed. "He told us that during those first weeks, he was surprised that everyone—well, in general—was…pretty nice."

* * *

"Blaine!" David waved from the table as soon as the shorter boy arrived into the dining hall. "Hey, over here!"

The newcomer looked up and realized he really _was_ the one being spoken to. Tentatively, he waved back at his new roommate before going to take his place in the lunch line and get his food. He had another close shave earlier when he spotted Logan in one of his classes that day, and found himself staring. Incidentally, Wes had been in the same class, and he'd seen him boring a hole in the back of Logan's head. Blaine had quickly ducked down to his book.

The Warblers. The whole school was totally nuts about them, apparently. And if Logan was their lead singer, then he pretty much stood in a position that was way _way_ out of Blaine's league. If…leagues were being considered. Which they were _not_, but for purposes of a completely hypothetical situation: if anyone at all got wind that Blaine was gay and was going for the lead singer like that—

"_Blaine!" the cry echoed from the doorway of the gym just as t__he supply closet door slammed—broom handle jamming the handles. __Blaine's hands were pounding on the door, yelling to be let out._

"_Hey! We got another one for the room!"_

_He could hear another person—__**please don't be Shane, please don't be Shane**__—struggling amidst the laughing jocks outside the door as Blaine was trapped in._

_A slam as a body hit the doors, making Blaine jump. He knew that groan of pain against the door._

"_Jude!" he slammed his fist on the door. "Jude!"_

_A muffled curse at the other side. A camera lens smashing to the ground. Insults and curses hurled back and forth and he was sure he heard his friend sob._

_After a few moments, a blaze of sunlight pierced into the black—Jude was hurled into the supply closet amidst laughter._

_The sneaker steps faded. The laughter became faint. A distant set of doors slammed._

_And silence._

"_Are you okay…?" Blaine asked quickly, helping his friend get up in the darkness. Both of them bruised. "Jude, are you okay?"_

"Blaine? Are you okay?"

He jumped and nearly knocked someone's tray of pasta over. "Whoa!" Wes quickly grabbed the tray before it fell. He breathed out in relief. "Geez, dude, what's with you? Are you another clumsy one?" He grinned, though not unkindly.

"No—no, sorry—" Blaine answered, startled. "I just spaced out. What were you saying…?"

"I said David says you should hang out with us over there once you get your food," Wes repeated, looking at the new boy curiously. He nodded over to the table where David was sitting. As Blaine looked that way, Wes added, "You too, Reed."

Blaine realized that he was talking to another boy in the line, one who just arrived, standing behind Blaine, and looked startled when Wes mentioned him. It was the curly-haired boy from the Art class. "Y-yeah," he nodded quietly, hastily, tucking his hands away—they were covered in paint.

"Are—are you sure that's okay?" Blaine asked apprehensively. He'd never been asked to sit down with anyone past his small group of friends before, and he still wasn't sure on how to treat here in this school. Do Wes and David have suspicions yet, and just wanted to see if they could be confirmed? "Well…" he glanced again at the table and back at Wes and Reed, knowing that since Reed had been around longer, he had priority. "There's no room."

"There's plenty of room," Wes grinned. "Meet you there." And Wes went back to the sit with David. Blaine watched him go and felt nervous as he picked up a tray. _I have to try to not be obvious. I mean…those twins must know…and Wes saw me staring at Logan…_

"It's okay, you know…"

Blaine broke out of his reveries to see Reed looking at him. The shorter boy smiled faintly. "They're nice, don't worry."

Surprised, Blaine smiled a little. "Uh…yeah, I know, they helped me unpack a couple of days ago." _Making friends is good. _"I'm Blaine."

"I know. I'm Reed. I live in the second floor too…a couple of doors down."

Blaine remembered that. He saw Reed come out of an oppressively white, completely padded room. Like an asylum room. It had been a little unsettling. All right, a lot unsettling. But as a human being, Reed seemed perfectly all right…

"Sorry about scaring you during the initiation," Reed smiled a little bit. "It's just this thing we do with all Windsors."

"Ah…you reminded me to apologize to David for hitting him with a lacrosse stick."

"He did say you were pretty strong—are you trying out for a sports team?" Reed smiled.

_Maybe I could. It would help my social standing. _"I might. Maybe fencing or…football."

"We and David are in the football team. Maybe you can ask them if you can try out. Our football team's pretty good."

Blaine stared. _I stay in a room with a jock. I concussed a jock. All right…there's that quicksand…_ "I should—yeah, I should go apologize or something."

Reed smiled a little more, and the worry in the brown eyes Blaine had previously seen seemed to fade away a little bit. "It's fine, really. Stuff like that happens. At least you put up a fight. Charlie and the others were impressed. Apparently _I_ just squeaked and let them…" Reed turned crimson.

And then he spectacularly tripped over his own feet, food flying. His food slammed into Blaine's uniform and all over Blaine's shoes. The entire lunchroom winced and for a moment Blaine was shell-shocked, but when he came to his senses, he helped Reed get up.

"I'm so, so sorry—" Reed stammered, looking even more crimson. "I'm a big klutz, that's all."

If it had been anywhere else, maybe at his old school, Blaine might have partially considered if it was done on purpose—he'd been on the receiving end of enough traps. But Reed looked so embarrassed and crestfallen that it couldn't have been anything but a complete and total accident from the flustered boy. "It's okay, it's an accident, that's all."

"You two okay?" David asked as he arrived, looking concerned. He put away Reed's tray and even helped brush off Blaine's uniform as Wes went to get another tray for Reed. This looked like standard procedure to them by now, and then both boys walked with them back to their table, where the Twins seemed to have magically appeared at.

The Twins made themselves useful by helping clean Blaine up a little bit more and the pouring food into Reed's plate, all done as though they did this sort of thing all the time, every day, that it was just second nature to them. And whatever clincher Blaine was waiting for during that lunch hour, being called out for staring at the blond lead Warbler, it never came. In the entire duration of the conversation, Blaine was careful about his answers as it would seem the boys were trying to coax him to talk more about himself, but they only seemed to be interested in everything other than what he was afraid they would ask.

He found out that all of the people on the table, including timid Reed (who they also seemed to be trying to chat up a little), were members of the Warblers. Blaine felt a little embarrassed that he didn't recognize a single one of them, and maybe that had something to do with his focus entirely on only one person during the performance.

For the next fortnight, as Blaine continued to keep an eye out for everyone cautiously, and it would appear that David (and invariably Wes, who seemed to always be with him) really _was_ just trying to be friendly when he invited Blaine to join them for lunch or asked if he would like to play a few games on the PS3 and maybe even demolish a few people from another House in Halo.

Blaine was not party to this information, but most people in the House were very well aware that they lost a number of new transfers owing to the madness that went on in Windsor. Blaine had fought back—powerfully so—during initiation, and they wanted to make sure that they weren't going to lose _this_ one.

At least, the Twins didn't want to.

"Is he scared of us?" the Twins asked, while wearing what appeared to be full body armor, each holding two gargantuan full-auto nerf guns, primed to shoot. It took all of Wes and David's patience not to answer that question.

"He does seem a little secretive," Charlie told David, who had spent another unsuccessful morning trying to get Blaine to talk to them a little more. The only thing he managed to extract from him were a repetition of what Reed already knew (wanting to join sports), and if _Reed_, the clumsy artist who was often solitary and worried about his mother's pressures, could extract more than David could, that was saying something.

"Why is he so scared of us?" David asked. "We're insane, but we're not _that_ insane."

A long pause followed that. "All right, _maybe_ we're _that_ insane."

"Anything, Caterpillar?" the Twins asked curiously at the speaker by the common room. And a response issued from it.

"_All right, I still think it's really creepy that you're making me do a background check—"_

"We were just _curious_…"

"_Yes you are. You're very curious. By that I mean strange. Mentally."_

* * *

"You made Han do a background check on Blaine? Isn't that invasion of privacy?" Kurt, scandalized, glared at the Twins as they, carrying boxes and canvases, trooped towards the Dalton Academy Art Hall the next day.

"It's called Google, anyone can do it," Evan rolled his eyes, box under his arm.

"And besides, we didn't actually find out all that much," Ethan said.

Kurt grabbed the back of Reed's blazer just as his friend—carrying a framed piece of artwork that was so large he couldn't even see over it—predictably tripped over a crack in the pavement that he didn't see. "Did you do that to _me_ when I first came here?" Kurt demanded as Reed squirmed out of his grip.

"We wouldn't do that." The Twins gave him a completely innocent expression that no one within hearing distance actually trusted. They were approaching the Art Hall.

The Hall was officially the Theodore Marshall Building, and it was named after a famous curator who had studied once in Dalton twenty-five years ago. It was a beautifully designed building of mid-century modern-style elegance, with large coloured panels of glass and wood as windows.

It was three stories high: the first floor had the office of the Art Hall supervisor and a large working area. The large area in this floor was where the art club and visitors could gather, sketch and do their work. There were far more supplies in this building than there are in the art room in the South and Main, and had storerooms on each floor. This building was practically the home base of the Dalton Art club, where half the club hero-worshipped Reed (to his complete and utter chagrin), and the other half possessed barely-concealed envy (which Reed found equally unsettling). This was mainly why he painted in his room and not there, with them.

The staircase to the second floor was ornately carved wood, and the second floor was mainly for exhibitions, and was separated into three different halls. The school's art collection rested in this second floor, and the school held some formal functions for visitors and parents here. Sculptures and paintings of great value rested here amidst warm light.

One then had to pass old wooden doors which revealed a glass staircase, heralding a more modern outlook, for the third floor was another exhibition space—but for the work of the students, for their exhibitions. They held their own presentations here, and the art teachers also held presentations here for the various year levels' final art projects. The third floor had a large main exhibition hall, and two smaller "focus" halls.

One of them was where Reed would be displaying his work. While all the other talented art clubbers would be exhibiting their work in the main hall, only Reed commandeered an inner hall to himself. As Kurt climbed past the first two floors, he started to partially understand why Reed chose to focus on the exhibition over singing lead. The pressure must already be substantial.

"They didn't find out much," Blaine said, from where he was also carrying Reed's art materials into the third floor, and into the double doors of the inner division. The Twins were already running around with decorations, helping Reed set things up. Reed seemed to find them more hindrance than help, but tolerated the company. Blaine added, "Mainly they just found some info about me being in theatre in my last club, and singing…"

"And when we found out he could sing," Wes added, "We thought it would help to bring that up. Since we were Warblers and all."

"But before that," David said, "…Han saw his name mentioned in a minor newspaper article. Over the death of one of his friends, Jude Whittaker. Amateur photographer."

Kurt turned to Blaine, who smiled faintly, a sadness deep past his eyes. "I was really grateful for that article. It didn't do much to help…but it was one of the few things that tried to get people's attention about what happened. That Jude was…well…it suggested that it might have to do with Jude being gay."

"So we figured," Wes said with a smile, "that he might have been worried about us figuring out that he might be inclined the same way. We were really scared about jumping to conclusions, but I did see him staring at Logan—"

"—and you'd have to be _blind_ not to notice that his IQ takes a steep drop whenever Logan was in the vicinity—" David added and evaded the swat Blaine tried to give him. "It's _true!_ We _saw_ you! You looked like you were memorizing him or something! How else did you think we guessed how crazy you were about _Kurt _when it happened a second time?"

"When you're into someone, you're _really _into someone, Blaine, I mean, wow, after Kurt agreed to be your boyfriend, you walked into a door the first day back from school," Wes leapt out of Blaine's reach as even Kurt dropped his face into his hand, turning deep scarlet.

"Anyway, the point is, we don't blame him for freaking out about us finding out he was gay," Evan chirruped "Yeah, I mean after all, you get fenced in with a whole bunch of boys, it's got to be difficult."

"—so our first thought was to make sure that he knows it's all okay," Ethan nodded.

"So you just…told him you knew?" Kurt stared. "How were you so sure?"

"Like they said," Blaine sighed deeply, as though the very memory of being the way he had been gave him pain, "…I made it kind of obvious."

* * *

"Blaine, right?"

He had been walking down one of the halls, heading into lunch period when he heard the voice looked up quickly and locked onto a pair of piercing green eyes. And his chest tightened considerably at the sight of them. "Oh…hey. Yeah, I'm Blaine."

Logan smiled, standing tall over him, and looking amused and curious. He extended a hand, and in all likelihood, he was sure that Blaine already knew, but said it anyway, "I'm Logan."

"I know," Blaine found himself smiling as he shook his hand.

"You do?" Logan smirked, and Blaine coughed as his ears turned red slightly. The blond boy pretended not to notice and added, "Well anyway…I heard you were new. And that the twins like you. Piece of advice—keep a nerf gun under your bed. They're notorious for ambushes."

"Yeah, I'm also told," Blaine laughed a little.

Logan only looked more amused now. After a moment, he glanced down before turning those green eyes back at Blaine. "You can let go of my hand now."

Rapidly, Blaine let go as though he was burned. "Right."

Logan looked terribly, terribly entertained by all this. The taller boy didn't say anything out loud, but Blaine was absolutely positive that there were enough signals in the air for Logan to realize that Blaine was inclined. Very inclined. The shorter boy coughed stoically and turned away, in a dire attempt to look composed, "So, uh, can I help you?"

"Just felt like introducing myself," Logan replied casually with a smile. "I got interested."

Blaine found that it took effort to swallow down his heart after that. He maintained the feigned coolness with a smile. "Did you now?" _This isn't flirting, right? Man, I hope it's not. This better not be. Calm down…calm down…_

"In being your friend, I mean," Logan said simply, smiling in a way that could've been a smirk at the right angle.

Blaine only trusted himself to nod once. Logan considered him for a minute and said, "Warblers are doing another performance today for the students. Thought you might want to come and watch." He began to step casually away.

"Are you—are you singing lead again?" Blaine asked—it was out of his mouth before he realized it.

"Yeah," Logan replied, giving him a light wave and walking away. "So come watch, all right?"

Blaine stared after him, a little stunned and not quite sure exactly what happened here. He stared for so long, waiting for him to vanish around the corner, that he didn't realize that he'd been caught—and probably completely seen the whole time—by the Twins, who he finally saw were waiting at the chairs in the hall where they said they would be.

Blaine's hands immediately went cold at the intrigued expression in the Twins' ice blue eyes. "Oh. You were…"

"Yeah," Evan nodded.

"Been here awhile," Ethan added.

"It's okay."

"So, to lunch?"

"Take him," Evan said, in a way that almost made Blaine think it was a death knell. "I'll get Wes and David."

Ethan frowned a little, as though he wasn't comfortable, but nodded. "Hurry back." He took Blaine's shoulders and grinned down at him, pushing him off to the direction of the lunch room.

Blaine's mind was racing. Evan was going to tell the two Warblers and Ethan stood on guard. He thought of running, but running would make him seem guilty.

No blow of any kind came. Ethan merely took him to the doors of the lunchroom, let go of him and smiled, waiting patiently for the others, who arrived not long after. They were all talking now, and they looked completely ordinary, as though nothing was wrong.

Maybe they didn't notice after all…?

Blaine was accustomed to sitting with the boys now, and the boys were talking about their girlfriends—the Twins with their lack thereof, David about his wonderful girlfriend Katherine, and Wes recently getting together with a cheerleader from another school, named Tabitha, who David already wasn't fond of.

"I'm telling you, man, she's bad news." David looked displeased as he sat down. "She's hot, I'll give you that but…something about her just screams 'overkill'."

"Or just screams, period," Evan muttered, as he and his twin looked rattled.

"The way she lashed out at that salesgirl at the mall—" Ethan commented, shuddering.

"Look, not _everyone_ can find a veritable saint like you did, David," Wes rolled his eyes. He sat down with them, looking irritated. "Besides, it's just a couple of dates!"

"She seems so _clingy_," David looked annoyed. "And she was bragging about her football team the entire time, knowing you and I are both in _our school's _team."

"I have a _type_ and while Tabitha isn't precisely that type to a T, she has most of it—

"The _cheerleader_ part of it—" David bristled.

"—and I want to give it a shot! Tired of being the third wheel around you and Katherine." Wes looked glum.

Blaine smiled to himself at the boys and their familiar distresses—he'd heard his previous schoolmates talk all around him about similar problems and Blaine really couldn't be part of this sort of conversation as he wasn't inclined. And they've never actually _asked_.

That changed when he sat down.

"So Blaine…" Wes began, with complete friendliness in his tone, but if one observed well enough, it was very carefully gauged, "you like anyone from this school yet?"

"Wes," David elbowed him. "Don't say that—what if he's got a boyfriend already?"

"I was just asking!"

As Blaine stared, paralyzed in shock, the Twins laughed. "He doesn't know anyone from this school yet," Ethan said. "Besides us, anyway. And you two are straight! Completely unhelpful to the poor guy, especially with mushy David as his roomie."

"Ah, we've got to get you socialized, little Rabbit," Evan shook his head at Blaine. "Or…_do_ you have a boyfriend already?" He looked a little worried. "Because you can tell us—we'll tell other guys to back off in case they were planning on hitting on you or anything…"

They all looked curiously at him, expectant, without a single trace of malice. Blaine continued to gape at them, wide-eyed. "Are…you okay…?" David asked, concerned, inwardly wondering if they'd offended him and did jump the gun, no matter what the Twins had seen between Blaine and Logan that practically spelled it all out.

Blaine sat, stunned. This was, by far, the most alien thing he had experienced in his days at this school so far. Far stranger than the explosions, nerf guns, the stressed "Hatter", the hyperactive "Hare", the clutzy "Dormouse" and the eccentric "Tweedles", or the boy with the incredible green eyes and the glower of his own coterie of friends.

This was the strangest, the most detached from all the things he had known.

…and somehow, the most warming, welcoming thing he'd experienced since he came.

His eyes turned hot at the mists rushed up and his hands shook.

"Um…" Wes looked worried now. "Blaine?" One of the twins (Ethan? Or Evan? Did it matter?) rose and positioned himself to Blaine's opposite side, so the new boy now sat between the pair. They looked worried.

"Hey, it's okay," said one, smiling a little. "You didn't just break up with someone or anything, did you?"

"If it was his fault, we can gladly torment him some," the other said with a grin.

"The both of you," David glowered at them, but Blaine choked out a response.

"No, I'm—" he blinked away the mists and for the first time, smiled tremulously up at them all. "I'm…unattached. Haven't ever been."

"You're kidding," David said, looking genuinely surprised.

"Yeah, we've _got_ to get you socialized," Wes grinned at him.

Blaine smiled a little more at them, and managed to laugh, shaking his head and lowering his eyes, embarrassed at tearing up over such a thing. But the Twins just laughed and both clapped him on the shoulders, shaking him a little with identical grins. "Come on!" they cheered. "Lighten up a little! Relax!"

Blaine laughed a little more and the Twins looked happier. Wes and David relaxed, relieved that it had worked and now the pressure was off the newcomer even a little bit. Blaine couldn't remember the last time he felt so grateful.

"Oh _god_…" he buried his face in his hands, taking a deep breath, laughing in pure relief. "I'd been scared half to death all this time, I'm surrounded by football players and school rock stars, and I wasn't sure if you guys—"

"Had it bad in your old school, huh?" David nodded sympathetically. "Don't worry about it, man. You're not the first kid to have ended up here for…sanctuary purposes."

"And even though we also have the zero-tolerance no-bullying policy, we'll be here to back you up, okay?" Wes agreed with a smile. "We're crazy, but you don't have to be scared of us."

The rest of the table agreed. Blaine just laughed again, shaking his head in disbelief. "Yeah…" He looked up at them now, and smiled, feeling as though a great weight was lifted off his chest. He dropped his head onto the table and everyone around it laughed.

"Hey, we're just glad we guessed right," David said, looking relieved. "We…we don't mean to out you, okay? We just wanted you to know that it's okay and we've got your back. We won't tell anyone else."

"It's—it's just…new to me," Blaine responded as he sat back, his heartbeat slowing to a normal rate.

"Get used to it," grinned Wes.

"How exactly, did you find out…?" Blaine asked, wondering what exactly had given him away. And he winced when the Twins began to smile.

"Logan was flirting with you, and you didn't seem all that fazed—rather pleased, actually," Evan said casually.

Ethan shrugged. "And since Logan is openly gay—"

It was a bad idea to be drinking anything at that time as Blaine choked ungracefully.

Logan? He was gay? So that _was_ flirting, right? He's gay—he was gay! And _out_! Everyone _knew_ and he was still standing among the top of the school food chain! With that one discovery, everything completely and utterly changed. So many thoughts raced to Blaine's head that he didn't notice another boy run over to their table and quickly sit down.

"Hey boys," said a familiar brunet boy breathlessly. "Sorry I'm late."

"We've barely seen you all week," frowned Wes as he looked at him, and Blaine recognized the same boy who had been so kind to him in his first day. "Even at the dorm! What have you been doing? Working on experiments with Drew and Satoru?"

"No," laughed the boy. "Told you, my esteemed parental units are in town and they want me around every eight seconds to make sure everything is copacetic. I'm not a son, I'm a personal assistant."

"Aren't we all…" David grinned.

"Oh hey!" the boy now looked happily at Blaine. "Getting used to school yet? Careful—everyone's got claws somewhere."

"Damn it, Joshua," Wes glowered at him. "We made progress with him not being so scared of us all the time!"

"Sorry…" the boy grinned.

Blaine stared at the kindly one and realized this was actually the first time he'd heard that name. "Joshua."

The boy looked at him and laughed. "Oh yeah! All this time, I haven't properly introduced myself!" With kind eyes, he smiled, extending a hand.

"Blaine Anderson," Blaine smiled, shaking it.

"Joshua Tipton," the other boy nodded.

* * *

Kurt stood staring, eyes wide and gaping at the boys.

"Tipton?" he demanded. "_Tipton?_"

The others looked at each other not sure if this reaction was good or bad. Blaine stared at him. "What?"

And Kurt turned heel and ran out of the hall. Blaine was startled for a moment and the others stared at him, wondering what that was all about. Blaine rushed out of the hall after him after a moment, and the others looked absolutely baffled.

"He…he didn't know?" Reed asked, a little startled. "I thought you guys told him that!"

"Of course we told him that!" Wes hissed. Then he looked confused and looked at the Twins. "…did we?"

The Twins just blinked. "Um…"

* * *

_To be continued..._

_Next episode: As Kurt continues to unravel the story, bit by bit, Parents' Night continues to approach, inorexably. But as it is, "Alice" seems to be uncovering more than just ghosts of the past. He is finding more things in present day that seem to be red flags (calling to his attention, warning him of something) and a dread that gets echoed in the unraveling story of last year, as though reminding him that while the story starts well, it will not end as favorably. _


	25. Warning Signs

_Hi, I'm CP Coulter and I'm your author for this fic._

_I have no excuses to offer you. Only apologies, and a profound feeling of guilt and embarrassment on my ineptitude to produce in the same manner that I had used to, that you had been accustomed to, and would like me to return to. It was certainly irresponsibility on my part, and it shames me to find that it is an act of ingratitude to all that you have given me. I should have estimated my time and ability to produce properly, and at least live up to the deadline expectations._

_You have all been nothing short of absolutely wonderful, and as my fic has hit well past it's 1,200,000-hit mark, I can only say, with all of my heart, that I am deeply grateful for everything you all have given me. The words of support, the encouragement, the kindness that all of the Kurtsies, no matter the ship, or even those Glee fans who found their way to my fic and told me they liked it-all of it, I am grateful to all of you, and continue to be, and will always and forever be._

_The arc continues with this episode. As the past unravels, so does the present. Kurt is finding secret after secret in the school, and continues to find more. He has been woven into the web that the mad students have created for themselves in their dormitory worlds. Parents' Night preparations continue. And many skeletons rattle in the closets of each family, of each boy, and a sense of foreboding falls over them, as they make their way to what the students sometimes call "Hell Night."_

_As always, I remain grateful to you, if you are reading this, and hope with all my heart that you enjoy this episode._

_(**I do not own Glee**. If I did, would never be as wonderful or groundbreaking as it is now.)_

* * *

**Dalton**

* * *

**Episode 25**

**Warning Signs**

* * *

A hurl of indignant wrath later, the students at South and Main parted the way as Kurt made his way down the hall.

"_Bailey!_" his imperious tone penetrated the music blasting into Bailey's ears and he turned around in the hallway to find Kurt storming up to him. The musician blanched but held his ground. He waited until Kurt reached him before resuming movement, presumably to a more crowded place with more witnesses so Kurt would be unable to murder him.

"Tipton?" Kurt demanded. "His name was—"

"Ah…I suppose it's my turn to tell the story now…?" Bailey sighed deeply, knowing the time had finally come. "It's not like I actually _lied_ to you or anything—"

"But you couldn't have told me that you share the same last name as the notorious 'second soloist'?"

"I was accelerated, I'm in Stuart for a reason—look, Joshua is my brother. When we came to this school, he landed in Windsor, I landed in Stuart. I told you, I mostly know the Stuart side of things and he knows more about the—"

"But Joshua isn't here," Kurt crossed his arms over his chest, walking with him. "And you clearly would know his side at least? He tells you everything I'm sure, and you obviously know more about what happened than you let on, or you wouldn't have kept this from me," Kurt added, trying to keep up with him.

"Last year was good while it lasted, Kurt," Bailey explained, looking a little distressed. "I wanted to make sure repeats of the ending didn't happen and I thought I didn't have to tell you that…minor detail." He led Kurt out to the courtyard, and handed him some music sheets. "Here."

"What's this?"

"Harvey and Medel want those trying out for lead for Parents' Night to do that song, just that one song. Thought you might want it."

Kurt stared down at it for a moment, marveling, and then looked back up at Bailey. "You're not getting off the hook with this."

"Kurt!"

The two of them looked up to see Blaine running towards them. He saw Kurt with Bailey and groaned. "You caught him."

Bailey wistfully raised up his wrists to mimic someone who was handcuffed. Kurt glowered at him. "You couldn't take five minutes to tell me that Bailey was Joshua's _brother_?"

"I figured someone would've already dropped the name to you," Blaine said apologetically as he came up to them.

"And to be perfectly honest, taking a look at past Warbler rosters in the book would've—" Bailey quailed under Kurt's withering gaze at that point, and turned to Blaine for help.

"Okay, don't shoot Bailey, he's just trying to help with…whatever's left of all this," Blaine explained.

"That's why you've been doing all these things?" Kurt asked Bailey. "Is this why you said those things to me? That you wanted to make sure everyone was happy this time?"

Blaine turned to Bailey, who just shook his head as he said, "I was just…trying to keep everything together, you know? What happened last year it—it just burned the life out of everyone and I hated it. Everyone all around me just sniping all the time and falling apart and as it is right now…" he sighed. "And all of you—you're my friends. You think I want you guys to mess yourselves up again? Especially you, Blaine? As it is, Harvey's pretty mad at all this drama and you and Logan have basically punched each other out—"

"All right, I get it." Blaine sighed.

"I just…" Kurt shook his head and looked at Bailey with a questioning stare. "Joshua is your brother and he's so heavily involved in all this. From what I hear, Logan had…hurt Blaine _and _him. If that was true, then…why are you looking after me, Blaine _and _Logan? I thought maybe you'd _hate_ Logan for running him out of the school."

Bailey smiled faintly as he sat down on the courtyard steps, Kurt and Blaine sitting with him. "…I should. I could. But all that hate ruined everything already—I just don't want to add to it anymore. Don't you guys ever get tired of it? I know I am." He shrugged. "Besides, Joshua doesn't hate anyone, including Logan. From time to time, he asks me to check after the people he left behind here. That includes Logan, apparently."

Blaine smiled a little. "Yes, that…does sound like Joshua."

"My brother knows last year was a mess and things happened, and that they all had their faults, and all he wants is for things to quiet down. And you know for a time, he, Blaine and Logan had been close." Bailey paused. "He and _Blaine_ had been close."

* * *

_I'm Kurt. And this is Dalton Academy._

_When I came to this school, I knew next to nothing about how it worked._

_Now, I think I know more than I want to know about the boys who live in it._

_Weird habits, eccentricities, troublesome histories—_

_The secrets just come running out—and I start to wonder sometimes if I know too much._

* * *

They became friends easily.

Joshua, as it turned out, lived some doors down on the second floor. His parents were both working, enjoying high positions in society as a couple of diplomats who hopped all around the globe. Joshua and his brother Bailey, who was in Stuart House, were left alone except for the few times the parents would be in the country or the state, and then demanded their full attention.

Blaine gradually eased himself into Windsor life (although the others sometimes wished he'd talk about something other than his gargantuan crush, Tom Felton—to this day, Blaine maintains that he does not have a crush). It was Joshua and the others who suggested Blaine should become a Warbler, just like the others were.

"We heard you could sing! And you said you were in school plays and performances," Wes pointed out one day during Study Hall.

Blaine just stared at him. There were more Warblers in Windsor than in any other House. Sometimes, they would simply start singing, and everyone came out of their rooms to listen. "I've sung in school, a couple of plays, I play guitar and piano, but I'm not sure if I could keep up with the Warblers. As it is, the schoolwork is killing me!"

"We can help you with schoolwork," David retorted, even though Blaine knew the argument was ridiculous. David's GPA was one of the best and when he was working, even Wes let him. The schoolwork placed on Blaine to catch up was substantial and David couldn't be expected to share that load.

"Or I can," Joshua had suggested. "And we've heard you sing. You're amazing."

This was true. Blaine had let his guards down enough for David and Joshua to one day walk into their dorm room after practice and hear Blaine strumming the guitar as he sang along. They had listened, transfixed, as the shorter boy just sang with a voice that Windsor was prepared to contest was worthy of a lead position.

"Blaine," Joshua gave him an intent look. "Is this about Logan?"

David and Wes rolled their eyes as Blaine suddenly looked like a hunted rabbit. Joshua threw up his hands and fell back on the bed. "Come on! You can't be serious."

"Windsors are _not_ intimidated by Stuarts, Anderson, _ever_," Wes said directly.

"You're not even a Windsor, Wes!" Blaine shot back.

"I will be soon," Wes replied with a grin. "Our prefect already told me he was looking into it. When he says that, the problem usually gets solved."

Blaine didn't hear much about Hanover House, other than the boys there were friendly to both Windsors and Stuarts and that they were reasonably quiet by comparison to other houses. He was surprised that Wes was there, but he seemed so partial to Windsor House that everyone guessed it was only a matter of time until he would want to move dormitories. He certainly hung around with David enough.

"Do you…like him?" Joshua asked curiously.

"He's blond like Tom Felton," snorted one of the Twins almost sarcastically; Blaine turned scarlet and flung a couch pillow at them.

"Defensive, we see. Always a telling sign," the other twin responded as he caught the pillow before it hit his brother.

"I'm not auditioning," Blaine said with finality.

"Fine," Joshua shrugged. "Don't. Pity. You're pretty good, after all and…Logan seemed to like seeing you around. If you were in Warblers, you'd—"

"I know what you're doing—I'm not going to sing in front of him. I'm not ready yet." Blaine glowered at him.

"Logan likes people who can sing, though," Joshua grinned at him. Blaine's glare increased in wattage, but the boy with the bright eyes refused to be deterred. He elbowed him. "Come on! If it makes you feel better, I'm auditioning for that same reason."

Now everyone in the room gaped at him. Joshua shrugged, staring. "What? I did. I think he's hot." Blaine snorted back a laugh—he had heard that Joshua was also out, but this was the first time he's heard him make such a declaration about anyone.

"I have no idea what _either of you_ see in that guy," Wes grumbled. "He's moody and he does whatever he wants. And he gets what he wants."

"And he wants someone who can sing," Joshua answered casually with a grin. He elbowed Blaine. "What do you say? Give it a shot. Hey, the worst Mr. Harvey and Ms. Medel can say is 'no', right? They're having auditions next week after Sean transfers out—"

"We would like to repeat that the incident with the pudding and the cafeteria ovens was a complete accident," Evan declared.

"We sent Sean flowers and get well cards and wish for his speedy recovery," Ethan replied with a big smile. Everyone rolled their eyes.

"And Blaine wonders why Stuart hates us," David mumbled. Another explosion rocked Windsor from the laboratory. In the hall, there was a yelp and the sound of art materials clattering to the ground.

"I'm okay!" Reed yelled from outside. "I'm fine!"

"Hi Reed!" Blaine called.

"Hi Blaine! Hope you join the Warblers!" he went on with whatever he was doing.

Everyone returned to matter at hand, and all eyes turned back to Blaine.

"I'll…think about it," Blaine said finally.

* * *

Joshua and his brother Bailey didn't give Blaine a moment's peace after that. Bailey was already in the Warblers, and they hounded Blaine in the corridors, slowly breaking his resolve.

"I'm telling you, it's a great idea!" said Joshua, grinning at him. "Please, Blaine? Audition with me! Come on!"

"If you want to join because you think it'll get Logan to like you—"

Bailey, his headphones around his neck, started to laugh. "It's true, he does like people who sing, Blaine," he said. "When I heard about that, I told Josh immediately. I knew it'd convince him to join."

"Well, it's not convincing _me_." Blaine responded. "I just want to keep a low profile for now, all right? And besides, _you_ like him."

"This isn't about territory, it's about the chance for you to become on top of the food chain for once!" Joshua ran up to him. "Blaine, you told me that your last school sucked, okay, because your jocks and cheerleaders are psychos, and no one really cared about the fact that you could really _really_ sing. That must've been heinous, and did _wonders_ for the self-esteem, fine, I get it. But it's not like that here and you should _feel_ what it's like to be on top for once! The Warblers are crazy popular—you might as well give it a shot! Let yourself be appreciated for this really amazing thing you can do!"

"Blaine, how about this," Bailey grinned. "Just give it a try. You don't get in the Warblers, okay, cool. You get a low profile. No one will really care—I mean, with all the people trying out, this is just routine. But if you get in…you get to feel what it's like to be one of the popular guys in school."

"What do you say?" Joshua grinned. "Wanna go see what it feels like on the other side?"

Blaine hesitated. Joshua shrugged. "You realize, if I can't convince you, I will have Wes, David and the Twins convince you."

"Convincing means…progressively break down my sanity until I say yes?"

"Pretty much."

"All right. Fine. I guess I can prepare a little," he added, before the brothers could celebrate too much. The bell chimed over the corridors, an announcement ringing over the halls.

_All students, please proceed to Orion Hall for the Dean's Address. Prefects, please gather your House members. Day students, please proceed to the hall directly. The Warblers are also requested to please proceed to Warblers' Hall immediately. Thank you._

"Ah. We better get to that," Joshua murmured, looking around.

"I'm off to round up the other Warblers—see you, Josh, Blaine." Bailey grinned, slipped on his headphones—if he wasn't talking to someone, or in class, it would always be over his ears, as though he were permanently dependent on music to breathe.

"We better go find Ryan," Joshua said, naming the current Windsor prefect.

"You go ahead, I have to put this—" and Blaine held up a thick sheaf of paperwork, "—on Murdoch's desk. Or I might have to do it all over again.

Joshua smiled sympathetically and patted his shoulder. "I get what you mean. Okay, see you in front of South and Main." Blaine watched him go and smiled. He was glad to have a friend in this school who was also gay. It felt like a new beginning.

He would never forget his old friends, but with Erin having run off, Micah disappearing, and Shane (as he heard) heading off to Colorado to study in the Walcott School, Blaine had felt alone. If it weren't for Windsor, if it weren't for the boys in it and Joshua…

Murdoch wasn't in his office when he looked in. He started to feel a little apprehensive—he had to find him before the assembly, but he did hear that he was head of Stuart House, so maybe a Stuart boy would know where he was right now.

A flash of gold beamed at him as he raced past the coffee area. It didn't fail to catch Blaine's eye. Bailey was talking to Logan, who was sitting with a cup of coffee in hand, and a folio of music sheets open on top of the table. Bailey did say he was making the Warbler roundup.

"—and they want you to sing lead _again_—" Bailey was saying, but Logan looked unruffled and unconcerned as he continued studying the sheets.

"I really don't mind," Logan replied to him, rolling his eyes a little. "No one who duels me wins in the vote and so everyone seems content having me sing lead…"

"You just seem like you're doing a whole lot of stuff," Bailey said carefully. "You study in a whole lot of advanced classes, then you're one of the leading members of the fencing team, the tennis team is trying to draft you, you have the responsibility of singing lead for the Warblers, and rumor has it that George and Professor Murdoch are trying to boost you to being prefect next year!"

"I don't want to be prefect. It's more work."

"Then suggest to Medel and Harvey that you need someone to take your lead spot for a while?" Bailey suggested, but he quailed under Logan's glower. To say that the idea displeased him was a vast understatement. "Just a suggestion."

_He really takes the Warblers seriously…_ Blaine noticed. His feet were treacherous things, and he found them leading him towards Logan's direction. He and the blond hadn't actually spoken since that odd run in they'd had long before. Logan remained one of the most respected boys in school—mainly because he was the lead singer and everyone counted on him to deliver.

_You should feel what it's like to be on top for once! Let yourself be appreciated for this really amazing thing you can do!_

Blaine found this a complete one-eighty from his school, where the theatre and art freaks were shoved to the end of the food chain to be swallowed up by "greater" mortals.

When he broke out of his reverie, he saw that he was standing near Bailey and Logan, and the both of them were staring at him. "Uh, hey again?" Bailey said, but not unkindly and looking curious at Blaine's spaced-out expression.

"Are you all right?" Logan asked, looking at him.

Taken off-guard, Blaine coughed and his mind raced for something to say. And unfortunately, the first thing that came out of his mind was: "Hi. I…I want to audition. For the Warblers."

Bailey looked positively baffled, but nevertheless rather pleased. _Well that was easy_. He did feel a twinge, however, when he remembered that Joshua also liked Logan, and it was clear that Logan favored the new boy.

As Logan made a blink of surprise, he said "…then, why are you coming to me? You should see Harvey and Medel."

Blaine fidgeted momentarily, hands trying to express and failing. "Oh. Right." Yes, why didn't he think of that… Maybe he just wanted to tell him? _Trying to get to where he stands now?_

At that, the taller boy started to smile. He rose from his seat. "Come on." He closed the folio and tucked it under his arm, and he left the coffee cup on the desk. He smiled at Blaine, slipping a warm hand over his shoulder for a moment in encouragement before he began walking towards the doors.

Blaine, speechless, looked at Bailey, who only shrugged helplessly and allowed the tall lead singer to take them both out of the room and towards the direction of Warblers Hall.

"What are you doing?" Bailey asked, staring at his fellow Stuart.

"He wants an audition, let's give him one."

"Now?" Blaine demanded, wondering if the taller boy had lost his mind, of if he was losing his own for that matter. "We can't do that!"

"Oh I don't very well see why not." And with that, Logan slipped a warm hand onto Blaine's and pulled him down the corridors in a brisk stride. Blaine was quite frankly startled and jerked his hand back. Then Logan stopped in his walk. He turned to him. "What's wrong?"

"You, uh…"

Logan simply smiled and opened his hand to him again. He patiently held it there as he murmured, "It's all right." Eyes, piercing, but somehow also immeasurably soft beyond the intensity they displayed outwardly, kept trained at him.

As though Logan really_ saw_ him, singled him out, the way he had since the very first time he'd met him.

Logan smiled now and instead reached out to grab his wrist, strong and firm, before pulling him along down the hall. His hand did not slide down to clasp Blaine's again, but he held onto him securely, as though clutching a lifeline.

* * *

"_Are you okay?" Blaine asked his friend, who sat in silence, carefully picking up the fragments of a camera lens that he'd been carefully saved his money for in months. _

_Jude glanced at him with a smile. "Yeah."_

_He was lying. Blaine and Micah looked at each other, and Micah lowered his eyes quickly, slipping off his cracked glasses. Blaine turned to where Jude was thoughtfully touching the cut on his lip as he continued to play with the lens' remains._

_Jude had been grabbed—for taking photos during the team's game, and the jocks got pissy after one sickening mistake that nearly cost them the game was captured on film and hit the school paper. Micah—did they need a reason to also thrash the other gay boy who happened to be walking with Jude when they found him?_

_The camera would survive, but the lens was ruined._

"_We can…get you a new one," Blaine told him, taking his hand, even though he knew that Jude would never allow them to do such a thing, no matter how much money Blaine's parents had. And that buying a new lens wouldn't erase the fact that he had carefully saved up his money for months and all his efforts were obliterated in two seconds and one brainwave of a discriminating jock._

_The incredible grip Jude returned onto Blaine's needed no words. It wasn't even about the lens anymore. He just needed to get through today. Like any other day. _

_That was what all of them relied on each other for._

_A lifeline. Desperate to stay on board while the storm tossed the ship, pitching the waves—hands clutching and praying not to fall overboard._

* * *

The grip on his hand tightened and Blaine looked up to see Logan pushing through a pair of oak doors, and he was swept into Warblers' hall, with Bailey running off to see the other boys at once. He was released immediately as he took stock of the people within it—a small fleet of boys who had already begun arranging themselves depending on their vocal range, with the more familiar faces from Windsor House looking up in surprise at the sight of him.

Logan went directly to the two adults standing by the piano: the woman with the long platinum blond hair and the ankle-length dress, and the tall man with dark hair, both looking down at music sheets. They both looked up with smiles as their lead singer approached with a grin and began to speak to them.

Blaine stood worriedly for a moment until Wes and David collided with him, nearly knocking him off his feet. "Hey, buddy!" Wes grinned brightly, arm draped heavily over his shoulders. "Fancy seeing you here!"

"You weren't thinking of, I don't know, _auditioning_, were you?" David beamed at him, so terribly smug that Blaine rolled his eyes.

"All right, fine," the newcomer responded, grumbling. "I may…have been coerced into it…by the Tiptons…"

"And yet you walk in with Logan?" Wes smirked. He then narrowed his eyes suspiciously at Blaine. "You two an item now or something?"

Blaine stared at them with wide eyes. "What are you talking ab—"

"Blaine?" came the kindly voice of the pretty music teacher that Blaine recognized immediately—she was the one who he had as a music teacher yesterday. Sylvia Medel walked up to him, Logan at her side, and said, "Logan says you'd like to audition?"

"Ye-es…" Blaine said carefully, looking at her, then at Logan (who smirked) and back again. As he did, the other music teacher approached—the tall and brown-haired Gregory Harvey. The Warblers all spoke very highly of him. This man smiled and said, "Well, we don't officially have auditions until next week…"

At his words, the boys saw Logan turned to him immediately, those eyes turning a little intense as they did. Clearly he wasn't pleased, but Harvey ignored him and said, "…but our lead singer seems to prefer we give you your opportunity right now."

Blaine stared at Logan with an expression that questioned his sanity. The taller boy only smiled coolly at him and replied, "I told them I was fairly sure that you would be all right."

"What gave you that idea?" Blaine stared.

"Well, if you wouldn't be, Wes, David and the twins wouldn't be plotting nonstop about somehow roping you into the group as soon as humanly possible."

Blaine gave his two friends dagger looks while they assumed expressions of angelic innocence. "Ah, so Blaine comes highly recommended…" Miss Medel looked amused.

"Yes," Wes, David and Logan said at the same time, making Blaine blanch.

"Well I don't see why we couldn't spare a moment or two…" she gave Harvey a look. "What do you think, Greg?"

Many of the Warblers now looked expectantly at Harvey, and Logan's green eyes continued to almost glower—without actually doing so—at their choir director. Blaine, desperate to look elsewhere other than the scrutinizing gaze of the male director, spotted a guitar among the instruments at the rack nearby. Harvey seemed to consider this, glancing to where Blaine was looking, and then asked, "Blaine, do you have a song ready? Perhaps a piece you think will…certainly catch attention?" He smiled a little. "We _are_ making an exception and I imagine you have a worthy performance?"

David looked a little apprehensive now, but Harvey's eyes expressed nothing but kindness. He wasn't a particularly hard man but he had his own set of standards and sometimes it was hard to predict how he would take to some things.

Blaine's eyes remained on the guitar.

_Let yourself be appreciated for this really amazing thing you can do!_

And an idea came to him. With a strange smile, an answering glint in his eyes, he looked back at Harvey and Medel. "I was wondering if I could use that guitar for my audition."

Medel smiled a little more. "Of course you may." She calmly gestured for him to go ahead and take it. At this, the Warblers immediately hurried to their seats, looking forward to this sudden audition. Logan took a spot on the couch directly across, clearly very interested as he leaned forward.

Harvey and Medel patiently stood by the piano again, watching as Blaine selected his instrument and moved forward. Bailey, clearly interested as well, helped out by pulling a seat out for the newcomer. Blaine shot him a grateful look and then found himself receiving the undivided attention of the entire Warbler troop.

His confidence wavered at this moment—and for one horrendous second, he entertained the thought of telling them he couldn't do it and maybe come back next week when he was more certain of himself.

And then his eyes locked onto Logan's.

The taller boy smiled at him. Not a smirk, not a sneer—a smile. An actual smile. Waiting patiently, and even encouraging.

Blaine took a breath and nodded to Harvey and Medel, and began to play.

* * *

"It turns out," Bailey said, arriving back next to Kurt and sitting back down on the steps, "that Logan was expecting all this. I don't know how, or why, but I think he was somehow secretly hoping that Blaine would want to at least audition for the Warblers." He smiled a little. "And he wanted to see Blaine's mettle. He heard that he was a little…distant. He wanted to see him put to the test."

Kurt accepted the cup of coffee the other boy handed to him. He turned to his boyfriend. "I guess we have Logan to thank for getting you properly into the Warblers?"

"Well, only partially," laughed Blaine. "You know I love singing, and I might have auditioned with or without Logan's involvement. Only, it wouldn't have been pushed as fast. Logan gets his way, as you well know. If he wanted me in the Warblers, he would have it done immediately. And I guess it helped that my audition was unusual."

"It was an original song," Bailey grinned. "We were really surprised."

"Don't You?" Kurt smiled. This part of the story, Blaine had already told him before. Blaine had mentioned auditioning with a piece that he wrote in an attempt to bring something else to the table and let the Warblers see exactly what he could do. It worked—because they never had a singer-songwriter before, and they certainly liked what they heard.

"That one," Bailey laughed. "Well, I saw the whole thing, the audition I mean, and I can tell you, I felt a little bad for Joshua when I saw how Blaine and Logan stared at each other during that audition. I think it was something about that song."

Blaine looked positively mortified, but Kurt felt a small swell of pride, nevertheless, having heard that song from Blaine before. He had performed it for him, and he thought it was wonderful. If Harvey and Medel didn't draft him for that song, they would've been delusional. But when Blaine had sung it to him, it made him blush sixteen shades of red when his boyfriend leaned closer and closer.

Of course it would've gotten Logan hooked. "Tell me he wasn't doing that flirty thing he does when he sings?" Kurt begged.

"Kurt, come on!" Blaine exclaimed as Bailey burst into laughter and replied, "Sadly, he did a little bit. I told you, he and Logan kept looking at each other during that performance. I really _really_ think that that's where the two of them actually started…putting the moves on each other."

"Just to be clear," Blaine said matter-of-factly, "I did not 'put the moves' on Logan. I don't think I was actually emotionally prepared to do that at the time."

"But you liked him, and you made it obvious," Kurt raised an eyebrow. "His advances were…well-received?" He grinned.

"Blaine might as well have written it on a banner." Bailey sighed dramatically and Blaine elbowed him, turning red. "What? You were crushing really hard! Even Harvey and Medel could tell. We found it _excruciating_ that you wouldn't even properly tell Logan that you liked him until after you'd been in school for _two months_. We almost felt sorry for Logan then!"

Kurt smirked a little. "So it was Logan who chased…?"

"Among other things."

The three of them looked up at the sudden voice to see a tall, limber figure, moving at a pace that could almost be called languorous, strolling up to them. Kurt, for a moment, was unable to recognize him by sheer lack of luster alone. And then he realized that it was Julian.

Even Bailey looked a little surprised, and he was the one who lived in the same House as Julian did. The actor was a far cry from his usual self—certainly not like the way he looked back during the Fair. He looked tired and pale, and he lost some weight, and he bore evidence of sleeplessness. But that smirk remained the same. "Congratulations, Blaine. For those first two months, you effectively made all of Stuart House loathe you for making things so much harder for the rest of us."

Kurt expected Blaine to react rather strongly to this, but Blaine only responded sounding concerned. "While that should've told you guys how big of a bad idea he and I were going to be—"

"—it did—"

"—are you all right?"

"People have got to stop asking me that question," Julian sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose with two fingers, looking exhausted and exasperated. He lifted his brown eyes and motioned for Kurt to get up. "Come on, Hummel."

"Excuse me?" Kurt raised an eyebrow.

"I heard that they were giving you a really long storytelling session. I imagine Logan's side remains a little foggy, so I'm here to clear matters up."

"Can't Logan do that himself?" Kurt remarked as he rose, nevertheless.

"Of course he can. But he'll most likely downplay his madness and believe me, it's more interesting to hear it from someone who's experienced the dramatics he put us through."

That might have been enough reason, but Kurt saw another expression flash at him from Julian: the universal, "I need to talk to you" look that people transmit to other people who were holding an invisible axe over their heads. And after having to go through that once with Karofsky, he decided to get _this_ one out of the way as soon as possible.

"Don't worry, I promise to look after your little Alice," Julian said sarcastically to Blaine's worried expression. "I'll make sure to bring him back before break ends."

"See you in class," Blaine told Kurt, who nodded to him. He then gave Julian a long look before the actor led Kurt away. Bailey was surprised that Blaine even let this happen at all—but whatever it was, it was more surprising him to see that Blaine also expressed some concern over Julian's questionable well-being.

It was a concern that Kurt echoed as soon as they were some distance, heading towards the direction of the Library. "I heard about what happened to you after the Fair. You apparently got sick."

"Yeah…" Julian sounded different now—distant, and tired.

"And you wouldn't let Logan in your room. Congratulations, you've effectively caused him to show me first hand exactly what he does when truly aggravated."

Julian smiled a little and Kurt wondered why the actor found it so amusing when Logan went off the deep end. The blond lead singer not only remained truly vindictive when spoken to in the halls and in class, but he was also completely mute during the Warbler meeting. In addition, the fencing team lived in utter fear that day as Logan brutally demolished each and every one of them in practice matches. It took Blaine's presence to diffuse the infuriated prefect in a match.

Blaine looked indifferent when Logan swatted his saber away with such force that it flew out of his hand. Instead of looking stunned, Blaine's silent stare at Logan seemed to demand to know what he thought was doing. That sent the still incumbent (and still very annoyed) Prefect out of the fencing hall. Logan had taken his medication soon after and he was more or less sedated by the time Julian sprung from his hideout.

"Is Logan still the Prefect?" Kurt asked.

"Sadly, he still is." Julian looked more amused now. "It's driving him crazy, but the truth is that Stuart is still torn at the vote. None of them want to make the decision. Partially because no one wants to handle what he's supposed to for Parents' Night. That, and Murdoch seems to strongly want to keep him in the title at least until _after_ that night."

"Why?"

"He wants Senator Wright to see his son still Prefect until then. I don't see why he bothers—his father never comes to Parents' Night. Stepmom does, though. Interestingly enough, Logan seems to care about _her_ coming to school. She's a nice lady—a little slow, but she does seem to really care about him. "

Kurt almost smiled. "You know him pretty well."

"Three years of being his friend, you get to know him whether you like it or not…" Julian shrugged a little. "Your parents?"

"My parents are actually planning outfits for the event," Kurt rolled his eyes, but his tone was affectionate. "When they heard it was formal, they decided to go all out so as not to embarrass me. _That_ worries me—I think I may have to step in."

Julian smirked. "Worrying about your parents embarrassing you? Classic."

"Well not all of us can be offspring to glitterati like Travis Armstrong and Dolce Larson," Kurt retorted coolly. "My parents are all right, thank you."

"That they are…" Julian shrugged. "Unfortunately, I don't have the privilege of parental humiliation on school grounds… The only red carpets my parents will be seen on are ones for awards shows and premieres."

Like Logan, Julian's parents were divorced—and it was a very public and messy one. Like anyone well-versed in Hollywood scandal, Kurt knew all about it. Dolce, the beautiful actress, and Travis, the talented director. Common enough match, but it went down in flames before Julian even hit pre-teen. The divorce was catastrophic, with both sides fighting over money, property, and who got to keep the talented little son. Dolce won out in the end, and got to keep Julian, but Travis maintained a strong hold over Julian's movie career nevertheless.

Kurt wondered if Logan and Julian got along in that matter—because they had troublesome family lives. The Wrights' divorce was also very public, and also happened while Logan was still in elementary school. Cordelia Wright put up the barest minimum of fuss in the whole matter, however, and left Logan entirely to Senator Wright. That, he supposed, was where Logan's problems began.

"Your parents don't come to see you? At all?" Kurt asked.

"No," Julian replied almost cheerfully. "Never have, never will. Too busy. Happens all the time. Besides, they don't need to know what goes on here. Thank god for it. They don't know anything."

Kurt got the message immediately. No one in Julian's star-studded life knew that he pined hopelessly over the temperamental senatorial son who also happened to be one of his few friends in school. As far as everyone knew, he was straight.

_Why do I always end up with the closeted secrets…? _Kurt wondered. _I draw these guys like a magnet! _"So what happened with Logan during that time, Julian? Did you already like him then?"

Julian's laugh was almost friendly—if it didn't sound so patronizing at the same time. "I've liked him since my freshman year."

"And you just…_watched_ him go after Blaine?" Kurt had a hard time believing that someone as spoiled as Julian would simply sit back on his heels and let it happen.

But Julian looked at him as though he was monumentally unimpressed. "You mean to say you've _never_ liked someone you knew that you had absolutely zero chance with and so just let him go?"

That hit home. Kurt glared at him and Julian smirked in return.

* * *

Derek wasn't comfortable in using the term "obsessed" to describe what Logan was going through those two months when Blaine still hadn't officially, verbally confirmed that he reciprocated the glaringly obvious interest that Logan was giving him. Obsession bordered in something dangerous and as far as they could see, Logan was simply focusing his energies on Blaine some of the time.

Whatever he saw in the newcomer, it was lost on his two friends, who had to watch him find ways to get under Blaine's skin in an attempt to elicit some kind of response. And when Logan wanted something and he didn't get it, his mood got bad.

Again and again, Logan returned to Stuart House when he found himself being dodged by the newcomer who, while clearly rather taken by him, seemed to not want to remain close to him. Almost afraid. And Logan had no idea why. He made everything clear enough, but Blaine, whatever his reasons (the overwhelming schoolwork, the pressures of new sports clubs and also being hailed a new Warbler? Who knew and who cared? Certainly no one else in Stuart House except for Bailey and Logan did) was burying himself away from Logan's advances for the time being.

Stuart boys looked up when Logan swept back into the House one day after class, his expression looking a little sinister. Those who knew better cleared the way. Derek and Julian carried on with their chess game. Logan strode into the common room and found the two of them. When he stood over them and he received no acknowledgement from either, his mouth curled into a sneer.

With a deft move, he picked up a single white piece and made the checkmate, heavily slamming the piece onto the table—some pawns clattered to the ground—and Logan swept away to the window with his cloud of gloom.

Derek made a choked furious noise as he glowered at his friend for interrupting their game. "What's the matter with you?" he demanded. "You've been prissy all week!"

He was ignored by the blond who pulled out a book and pretended to read, glaring at the pages. Julian only looked bored and exasperated. "Is he still scared of you, Lo? Maybe it's because of these wonderfully _thoughtful_ gestures of yours!"

"This is about Anderson _again_?" Derek looked annoyed now. He stalked up to Logan and snatched the book from the blond boy's hands. Logan looked up with a glare, and worse when Derek slammed the book closed and then threw it back at his chest. "Look, why don't you just put us all out of our miseries and _date_ the guy? There's no one in the school who would stop you."

"Except every occupant of Windsor House. And I would if he stopped _running_ from me," Logan snarled through his teeth as he threw the book away—it narrowly missed Julian's shins.

Julian rolled his eyes and looked at everyone else in the common room. One of the boys, who had been smirking at Logan's behavior, turned pale as Julian's eyes landed on him. The actor sneered and said, "What's the matter, Cy? Relishing the fact that for once, Logan has someone dodging him? But I suppose you'd be really familiar with getting avoided like the plague considering that it only happens to you _every single time_ you try to get a date."

The boy glared at him, slammed his books closed, picked up his coffee cup and left the room. Julian turned to the last boy in the room, who didn't wait for a prompting—he ran off immediately after his friend.

Derek was still trying to mollify their friend. "Look, you said it yourself. He's a little skittish."

"Gets along well enough with the Windsors, though," Julian smirked. "Maybe it's just Logan in general."

"Oh shut up, Jules," Logan glared. "You're not helping."

"And it's not like everybody can't see that he's already crushing hard on you," Derek looked irritated now. "Just let him get used to you."

"It's been two months," Logan sounded tired, fingers pressed to his eyelids.

"It's definitely you, then," Julian grinned. "Because D and I hated you for the first two months. Oh, wait a minute—we still do."

"Get out of here!" Logan yelled at him as he threw a couch pillow at him. Julian set his mouth in a line and strode off to the other side of the common room as Derek shoved Logan lightly and said, "Come on, lighten up. You see that's your problem!" He sat in front of him. "You push too far! Have you tried being nice to him?"

"I got him early audition into the Warblers! And the fencing team! And I even talked to Murdoch for him in the football team!"

"You give him stuff to make him like you!" Derek snapped. "You're trying to buy your way into his attention! That doesn't make you nice, it makes you a politician on campaign! And I have a hunch that's not exactly what Anderson's looking for."

At the term "politician", both Logan and Julian winced. Even Derek knew he tread on thin ice on that one, but that was the best way to get Logan's attention to the fact that he was doing things wrong. Having a good-looking openly gay boy being absolutely forward towards him must be alien for Blaine, who apparently had come to school for "sanctuary" reasons, much like some other boys.

Color soared into Logan's face now that he recovered. "And you're suddenly an expert on these matters?"

"Look, just try to…do small things," Derek said, trying to explain and navigate them out of dangerous waters. "Try to be nice. Considerate even! Take it easy on the guy!"

Julian piped up from the other side of the room, "Just hang out with him for no reason."

"Another one of your 'helpful' ideas?" Logan asked sarcastically.

"Seriously." Julian rose and walked to him, his tone calm and frank. "Just hang out with him for no reason and just talk. Show him you're a human being, that's all it takes." He slowly walked up to him and held out a pair of tickets. "Here."

Logan looked at his suspiciously for a moment, then took the slips of paper. "What are these?"

"Storybooks," Julian said sarcastically. "Why don't you read them and see?"

They were concert tickets. Derek looked surprised. "Where the hell'd you get those? That was sold out eight weeks ago."

"I'm Julian Larson, I get anything I want," Julian said sarcastically. _Except… _But he looked at Logan with impenetrable calm, mastered by many years of faking in front of a massive audience. "Now why don't you act like a normal human being for once and then, when you think it's okay, simply _ask_ him out on a date and save us all the trouble of having to listen your incessant whining? You might actually properly fall in love and vice versa!"

And he simply strolled out of the room. Logan glared at him as he watched him go. Derek glanced over to Julian's exit for a moment before looking at Logan, who said, "Not that he has room to complain about people whining, but he has a point. Anderson isn't going to fall all over your feet no matter how many times you push it."

"Like you expect girls to do with you?" Logan smirked at his best friend, though not unkindly.

"Hey, I work hard at getting their attention!" Derek grinned brightly. "You should learn how it feels for once."

"You mean these past two months wasn't hard enough…?" Logan groaned.

"Hey, you're the one who fixated on him," Derek threw up his hands. "You could've gone after easier game, but _no_, you had to go for the Windsor White Rabbit."

Logan seemed to smile more at that. Everyone knew that nickname now. And it was the first time the Twins had bestowed such a high-ranking title onto anyone. They seemed random, choosing who got to be what, but Logan knew the Twins since junior high. Nothing was random—when they thought enough of you, they'd name you.

Logan was the first character, apart from themselves, that they named—one afternoon, in Brightman manor, when they were all twelve years old, Logan's father being "celebrated" for his campaign, and all three blond boys plotting his demise via whoopee cushion prank.

The Knave. That was what they called him. Or rather, they accepted that name for him, because Logan had decided for himself. And then the Twins began "adopting" all the rest of the characters—but only during high school.

They never chose willy-nilly. They waited patiently for someone to come along who had whatever it was they were looking for. "Why do you think they named him White Rabbit anyway?" Derek asked. He had his own name—and he didn't take it too well. King of Hearts. It would've been all right, given his playboy nature, but the King was second fiddle to the Queen. It was though they say that Derek would always be second place.

"Why do you ask me?" Logan muttered. "They're not normal. They never have been since I met them. I think it's all psychological."

"But you know them better than the Windsors do and that's saying something. Do you think maybe their calling Blaine the White Rabbit is a hint to his personality or something? Maybe it'll help you crack that crazy new kid with the weird shoes."

"It's probably just because of the pocketwatch he has. For all you know, they call Julian Cheshire Cat because he keeps appearing and disappearing off to those damned shoots. Your problem is that you over think."

"And your problem is you don't make the effort to think past yourself," Derek sniffed as he got up. "Now do as we say and try a little harder so we can all have our peace. Whatever it is you see in him, if you think he's worth the effort, then it's worth doing it right."

It wasn't until Derek was at the door when Logan said, somewhat more to himself than anything, "…he's worth the effort of doing right."

Surprising. And a little pleasing. Give Logan a little challenge for a while and keep him occupied. Who knows? Maybe Blaine did inspire some kind of change in the normally cold boy. Derek turned to the hall and found Julian waiting. He smiled at his friend. Julian didn't smile back when he said, "…had those tickets for eight weeks."

"Why'd you give them to him, then?"

"Because I'm sick and tired of hearing him _whine_ when the answer was so _obvious_. Would it kill him to consider the other guy's feelings for five seconds?"

"You're not exactly the image of selflessness either, Jules, save for that stunt there."

It would be the first of many. "Oh shut up, D."

* * *

"Blaine and Logan started going out then," Julian sighed from where he sat at one of the benches outside the library. "After two months of dramatics and whining in his room, with only us to rant to, and making everyone else's lives miserable, he finally took our advice and acted like a human being around Blaine."

"Blaine was already pretty much smitten, though?" Kurt replied easily.

"Well everyone knew that, but it wasn't going to be much use if Logan kept pushing this attitude of his. The I'm-pretty-much-running-this-whole-show nonchalance. And he wonders why he can't get any closer to Blaine than obvious flirting in the hall. He just ducked the looks Logan gave him. Even you weren't impressed when he acted that way the first time."

"No, I was warned early on about him. I decided to see for myself exactly what he was like before making my mind about him."

"Well, you had the advantage," Julian replied, leaning back with a smirk. "_Everyone _knew Logan's colors by then. Blaine didn't."

"But you did?" Kurt raised an eyebrow.

"I have a vastly different view of Logan compared to the Jekyll-Hyde thing you Windsors have going, so you shouldn't compare my viewpoint about his "true colors". Besides, you said it yourself—you had to form your own opinion."

Kurt considered him for a moment. "And then what happened?"

"Logan and Blaine saw each other a lot more, and people saw them together a lot more—and heaven forbid that a Windsor boy and a Stuart boy should get along so well, but when you see them together, they looked…well they were really good together." Julian smiled dimly. "When Logan comes back from going out with him…he's actually happy."

Kurt turned his gaze down to the earth beneath their feet, splatters of sunlight broken by the leaves in the tree branches overhead. "…Logan and Blaine…really did like each other then, didn't they?"

Julian nodded. "Yep. They did. God forbid Derek and I say it in front of Logan these days…but we really thought that Logan was really in love for once. And I guess he was. He's had his share of flings, but we haven't seen him the way he was with Blaine."

"And Blaine, he…"

"We don't doubt Blaine loved him back," Julian said so matter-of-factly that it was surprising. "We could barely stand it. We didn't know how this was happening, but it was. No one in Stuart approved, but they're not saying _that _to Logan's face. Windsor was still hedged on it, but I suppose while Blaine was happy, so were they. The two of them were almost sickening to watch for a while." He looked at Kurt. "Kind of like the way you and Blaine are like now."

There was a hidden note, just audible, behind the calm in Julian's voice—Kurt recognized that. Envy. So he shook his head. "It's still all your fault."

"What?" Julian turned to him.

"You refuse to tell Logan how you feel. I was right, wasn't I? You can't leave. You're still here. You're _stuck _here, Julian. So why don't you just tell him?"

"It doesn't work as well for me as it does for you, _Alice_." The last word was laced with some venom. "Because he still has feelings for you. He's learned to look past his own wants now, because of you. He's letting you go because he feels that strongly about you."

The scoff that followed was hollow, bitter as the coffee grounds that Stuart boys liked so much. "…I hate you and Blaine more than I hate anyone in the world right now. Because for the life of me, I can't see what the two of you had that he fell so hard—hard enough to fight himself, to force himself away from his own destructive tendencies. And no one else can say the same."

Silence. Kurt swallowed. Hearing this from someone of Julian's stature, it made him see the actor very differently suddenly. The glowing Julian on TV was nothing like the person next to him, who was, for lack of a better term, fragile. "Why are you like this?"

"Like what?"

"You're not usually like this. You don't show people this side of you."

"I get tired of keeping up appearances. Sometimes I'm just as mad as every other hormonal teenager on the planet." Julian glanced at him and snorted, shaking his head. "This is ridiculous. …you know how people say that your friends are supposed to be the ones who know you best? I feel like because of what you already know, you know me better than most people in school and that almost makes you a 'friend' except that we both clearly can't stand each other for long periods of time."

Kurt smirked. "And you just said you loathed me."

"That too. But as much as I would love to push you into the school pool for being such an ingratiating diva—"

"—takes one to know one—"

"—you're still the only person I can safely talk to. As far as safe goes."

"Were you really sick, Julian, after the Fair?" he finally asked. "Because you seemed perfectly all right when we talked in the hall. And then you came down with your 'illness'." He raised an eyebrow.

"That's different," Julian muttered. "It's not about Logan."

"Because we can't have people accusing you of being overdramatic, now, can we?"

Julian didn't laugh, or smirk or even smile. His face still looked white and his hands shook. "What?" Kurt asked. "What's the matter with you?"

After a moment, Julian glanced at him and then seemed to change his mind. "…no, forget it. …maybe I shouldn't. You don't really have anything to do with it."

"With what?"

Julian gestured numbly. "This…thing I have. I just…" he let out a breath. "I'm _dying_ to talk to someone about it. And I'm sick of hearing Derek's opinion on the matter because he's the only one who actually knows—"

"Maybe you can tell Logan?" Kurt said, explaining like one would to a two-year-old. "Considering you're friends and all."

"I can't tell Logan anything. That…puts him in more risk than I'm prepared to take."

He sounded serious—this all _sounded _a little too serious. Kurt turned fully to him, frowning. "You might as well tell me, you got this far. And I already know your other big secret. Clearly I haven't told anyone. Yet."

"I swear to god if I hear this hitting E! or The Inside Edition, I'm going to ruin every chance of Broadway you have in the future, Hummel. I can do it, I swear to you."

"Threats are unnecessary," Kurt said calmly, clearly not intimidated by him. "Besides, my talents are such that they're obvious even to the blindest producer. I'll be all right."

Julian actually laughed. He wanted to shove Kurt off the bench and into the school fountain. He can't stand this little pixie diva but "Alice" was sadly the only person he could _actually_ turn to right now who might make a lick of sense in the haze of terror that was creeping up on him since the incident at the steps.

Derek had been blind with fury after he finished cleaning the blood off the steps. He had dragged the shell-shocked Julian out of his state of paralysis and declared every intention to tell Murdoch or _someone_ that a lunatic had left a message. Someone close. Julian protested against him desperately. That whoever it was, she or he was just trying to get attention, or was just trying to scare or shock him—that this had happened before—

Derek just exploded. But they don't break into your private school at the dead of night! They weren't close before. They were never this close. All of Julian's strength went out once he finally convinced his friend to let it go, just for now. A few more days. Until Julian could find a way out.

If he could even find a way out.

Then he was "ill". He couldn't leave his room, he couldn't bring himself to. He couldn't sleep at night. Derek continued insisting on telling someone. Or Logan. Julian used everything he had to convince him not to.

Collateral damage. That was he was worried about. If the person _was_ close, he didn't want to aggravate the situation by inciting panic. These people got angry, after all…

Until he was sure no one would be hurt in collateral damage if he really left…

Until he was sure, at least, that he was the only one who would draw all the venom…

"Hey, Julian," came a breathless voice that made Julian and Kurt jump. Kurt, who had been growing increasingly pale as Julian told him what he couldn't bring to tell anyone else in Stuart House, looked up to see a boy with a nervous smile. The boy's eyes widened a little as he held up his hands, looking alarmed. "Um, sorry—I was interrupting, wasn't I? Sorry. I was just…uh…" He spotted Kurt. "Uh, hi."

"It's okay," Julian seemed to breathe out at the sight of him. "I just… I'm jumpy these days." Julian rose and Kurt saw him change back into the Hollywood brat that he was. "What are you doing here, fanboy?"

_Fanboy…? _Kurt blinked, but his eyes were glued to the other boy's hair.

Julian then stopped and his jaw dropped in horror, with only a sharp, short laugh that belied mild amusement. "Adam, what the heck did you do to yourself?" Julian gasped as Kurt stared.

Adam stood looking awkward, scratching the back of his head. "Uh…"

His now blond head.

"You _colored_ your _hair_?" Julian stared at him, just a little horrified as he picked at a lock of pale hair.

"And he's definitely fried it with some serious chemicals," Kurt's expert eye surveyed the damage, wrinkling his nose a little.

The Hanover boy turned crimson, fidgeting. "I was just trying it out, all right…? I just…wanted to see how it would look." He paused as Julian glowered at him. "I…may have fallen asleep while I was waiting for it to set in."

Julian dropped his face into his hand, looking embarrassed as Kurt remarked, "Any longer and you would've been platinum."

"I was just…wondering if you'd had some lunch in you yet, Julian," Adam said, looking a little flustered with haste and with his situation. "I heard that you were sick and I figured you should eat when you're sick and you look…" He trailed away awkwardly.

"Someone's looking after you everywhere," Kurt said to Julian curiously, but he simply stood up, adding to Adam, "You're not interrupting. Julian was just rambling."

"Oh?" Adam now looked confused. Then he looked at Julian expectantly.

Julian flashed Kurt an expression that clearly meant, _Ah, what a rotten life a superstar must lead…_ "Well, I think I'll hang out with Adam here and be worshipped for a while. I suppose I'll have to thank you for listening to me ramble on." But he turned to Adam with a glint in his eye. "And you. Come with me. We've got to do something about that hair and even it out or something, I can't be seen with you in your condition." He grabbed Adam's hand and dragged him off.

"Why me anyway?" Kurt asked suddenly, as Julian began to walk away with the strange boy. There had to be a million other people Julian could've told his situation to, so why him? Julian glanced back at him and smiled that famous smile of his.

"Haven't you realized it yet, Alice? You're the only one sane in Wonderland. And I guess that's why trouble finds you."

* * *

"I guess it means he trusts you for some reason," Reed whispered to Kurt as the two of them walked back to Windsor House after Warbler practice. Behind them, Blaine and Logan spoke to each other in low tones as well, and while it sounded as though they were having a close discussion, it also didn't sound like an argument. Logan was following the Windsors back to their House, meaning to continue the story.

"He's actually wrong, if he thinks I'm still sane after living with all of you all this time," Kurt replied, eating an apple.

"Well, you won't tell me what you two talked about!" Reed looked a little irritated. "Then maybe I can put what he said to a better context." He paused, peeling his orange carefully, and added, "Was he really acting strange?"

"Yeah," Kurt took another bite of apple. "But strangely we got along."

"Mm…" Reed looked worried. "You see my stepbrother asked me to tell him if anything weird happens to Julian while at school."

"Clark?"

"Yes. They're in the same TV show, so I guess they're friends? Well, anyway, Clark called me out of the blue to ask me if I noticed anything weird with Julian. I guess he knows something."

_If Hollywood gets involved with that psycho stalker Julian was talking about, there's going to be a huge mess in this school. Why does __**everyone**__ notice except for Logan…? _ Kurt glanced back to where the tall blond Warbler was having an intense discussion with Blaine, but kept their voices low. They still weren't hostile, but Blaine looked a little distressed. Logan glanced up and caught Kurt's eye. He smiled.

Kurt smiled faintly back and turned back to Reed, who eyed them and said, "…are you _sure_ that he's…he's not going to stand between you and Blaine anymore?"

"He's definitely going to get it from me _again_ if he tries something else after all this…" Kurt grumbled.

"Seriously now. We're all still worried!" Reed started choking on a section of orange and Kurt, without so much as calling attention to it, whacked him soundly on his back and the piece of orange popped out from Reed's throat. The smaller boy looked relieved.

"Blaine said so. Logan says…he's ended it." Kurt lifted his head nonchalantly. "…I suppose it's just a matter of getting over it now."

Reed smirked at him. "Now if only everyone else were so fortunate as to have two boys fighting over them so passionately—"

"While it does _wonders_ for my egotism, it's not all it's cracked up to be," Kurt grumbled. "Do you want to swap places?"

"You don't want to be where I am," Reed sighed.

"You're right, I think I don't."

Kurt felt Blaine grab him back. "Wait!" Blaine suddenly said, staring at something ahead. Surprised, Kurt stared at him and then back at Windsor House. He saw immediately what Blaine was talking about.

Shane was standing by Windsor, hands shoved into his pockets, looking confused and apprehensive. Reed's eyes lit up for a moment…until he saw that Shane wasn't alone. Micah stood nearby, leaning against one of the pillars and reading under the warm glow of the lights from the building.

Blaine hissed under his breath. "I forgot… I was supposed to see them today and meet the group for dinner." He looked at Kurt. "And you're coming with us."

"I am?" Kurt raised an eyebrow.

"They want to draft you as our new fifth," Blaine smiled wanly, squeezing Kurt's hand. "You know, of the…Fabulous…Five…" he trailed away as Kurt stared, and then he hurried on with, "I tried to talk them out of it, you know, you didn't need any more complications—what?" Blaine stared as Kurt started to laugh, and laugh hard. He grinned a little himself. "What's so funny?"

"Nothing—!" Kurt smirked. "All of you. You're all insane."

"Yeah, and I'm starting to think you might be too," Blaine remarked but his eyes were bright. He looked at Logan. "Looks like I'm telling the story tonight, Logan."

"Seeing as how we just finished talking about my side of it…I suppose that's all right," Logan replied calmly. Kurt could read the tell-tale signs of someone who was mildly sedated. He really was trying. Trying. He wasn't perfect. But he tried.

Blaine looked at him differently now than Kurt had seen him look at him before. The hostility and whatever fierce hatred he had previously was scarcely there. Blaine said to Logan, "I'll try to tell it with as little bias as possible."

"It doesn't matter," Logan replied easily, with no discernible tone. "It's done now. I suppose this is good night then—you can tell the Twins, Wes and David to get out of their paintball sniping points over at your upper floors."

Instant distress from the Windsor balcony, and the sound of rifles being hastily withdrawn clicked upstairs. "_How did he even—?"_

Kurt satisfied himself with a glower in that direction for now, but when he turned back, Logan was already walking away. Blaine saw where Kurt's gaze was and said, "Something's really bothering him. I can tell. Something about the way he's talking. It's like he's thinking about something else."

"You seem to know him a lot better than you let on," Kurt remarked.

"Which, I guess, makes us each other's perfect enemies…" Blaine smiled faintly. He looked at Reed now. "Reed? Are you…?"

"I'm fine." Reed's response was automatic now, and had ceased to mean anything. "I'm dying to get in our room and rest, Kurt. It's been a really long day."

Whatever Reed had in mind, if he even thought he could manage sneaking past them, it was pointless. Shane's eyes flew to him the moment he presented himself. Micah looked up when he heard their footsteps and calmly closed his book, smiling.

"Hey Reed," Shane said quickly, going to him the moment he reached the three. "I'm sorry I haven't—did anyone already—" He glanced to Kurt and Blaine.

"It's fine, and yes, I've been…told the gist of it." Reed smiled that way again—the one where his eyes didn't change.

"Hello," Micah said with a smile, walking up to them as well. His glasses glinted mutely in the evening light. "Hello, Kurt, Reed." He nodded to them.

"I'm sorry, I forgot that we were supposed to go out and have dinner with the guys today," Blaine said, looking at the both of them. Micah only shook his head and answered, "Erin guessed as much, so we came to get you."

"Can we duck inside for a minute?" Kurt said quickly. "I want to get changed out of uniform."

"You better do the same too," Micah laughed to Blaine. "Erin says that if she sees you in that uniform one more time, she'll turn into a debutante."

Blaine laughed and nodded a little. "All right, I think I get it."

"Where exactly are we having dinner?" Kurt asked.

"I think I'll go ahead inside," Reed said suddenly, looking at the four of them.

"No, wait." Shane's hands glued themselves onto Reed's, looking at him. "Wait—do you—do you want to come with us?" he said hopefully, looking for a chance to explain some more.

Reed blinked, a little startled. He looked around at the four of them. And then his eyes rested on Micah again, tall with kind eyes behind the glasses. Micah caught his gaze and smiled again.

Reed smiled faintly back and quickly turned away. "No, I…I'm really busy with my exhibit. I think I'll stay in. Thanks anyway—you should have fun." He slipped away from Shane's hands and headed for Windsor, where the Twins stood curiously at the doors.

"Reed—!" Shane would've moved forward, but Micah caught his arm back and shook his head. "But…!"

"Shane…" Micah whispered carefully. "Let him go. Don't force it." Shane looked up at Micah, then back at where Reed disappeared to, and then just nodded. He stepped closer to Micah silently, staring at his feet.

"I…think I'll go change." Kurt blazed into Windsor after his friend not sure if he wanted to shake him or yell at him for running away yet again.

Windsor was in chaos—yet again—the moment he walked in. "Hello, Kurt," Charlie said almost cheerfully when Kurt and Blaine walked in. He was probably in element in this madness. "Blaine, your brother—"

"I know, I know…" Blaine said as the Twins hurried past him, still carrying their paintball rifles ("Aren't those supposed to be banned?" Kurt demanded, and was ignored). Satoru came whirling down the steps, holding a Tupperware container with a biohazard sticker stuck onto it.

"Chaz, can I put this in the fridge?" he yelled.

"Is it chemical?"

"No."

"Is it flammable?"

"No."

"Does it blow up?"

"No."

"Does it contaminate things?"

"No."

"Then why does it have a biohazard sticker?"

"Uh…I…don't want people eating it…?"

Charlie looked deadpan. "…we'll pretend I believe you. Carry on." He turned to the common room. "Evan! Ethan! If you shoot David with that rifle, I'm setting fire to your comic book collection!" Charlie looked up at Kurt and Blaine at the top of the staircase and yelled, "Curfew! Don't forget or I'm locking you out!"

"Yes, _mother_…" Blaine smirked as he followed Kurt into the second floor hall, knowing Charlie never locked anyone out.

"And whatever you do, don't—!"

"_It's been defiled!_" came a hysterical howl from upstairs as Kurt cried, "Why are there even fifteen containers of this stuff in the hall?"

"…touch Dwight's salt shipment…" Charlie finished lamely before trying to rein in the Twins as a volley of paintballs rattled the common room.

_Pow!_

Another explosion rocked the dorm (first floor this time, so whatever it is that Satoru had must've done it) just as Kurt rushed into his room and quickly shut the door as though trying to escape from the jungle of the hall. He let out his breath. He wondered for the life of him why he imagined having a life at Dalton would ever be 'quiet'.

He looked up and saw Reed pacing his white (and still paint-splattered) side of the room. "What was that?" Kurt demanded.

"Drew experimenting."

"Not _that_…" Kurt snapped as hasty knocks came at his door. Kurt picked up a fire extinguisher, opened the door and handed it to Drew ("Thanks, Kurt!") and slammed the door shut again without so much as looking away from Reed. "I meant you and Shane out there! I thought all this time, you wanted answers! He wants to talk to you, so let him explain!"

"I chickened out." Reed said shakily, flailing. "Micah was standing right there!"

"So what?"

"I'm not him!" Reed finally burst out. "I'm nothing like him! Have you _seen_ him? He's tall and good looking and he looks like he couldn't break a dinner plate if he dropped one—and—and—!"

"This ought to be good," Kurt muttered as he looked at his friend, arms crossed over his chest expectantly.

"And…" Reed crumpled into a chair. "…before I came upstairs… I saw Micah hug him."

"And?"

"I can't _do_ that!" Reed yelled. He looked worked up now and he paced as Kurt rolled his eyes and headed to the closet. "Don't you get it? I'm not like you! I can't be like you and Blaine, walking around holding hands and being so completely utterly sure of yourselves! Easy as breathing! Every time I see the two of you, I keep wondering why I can't have things like that! All because I can barely even bring myself to touch Shane's hand because I always freak out about every move I make around him, if it's even right or if I'm even supposed to or—!" he choked. "I can't reach out and just hold him like Micah does—and he's the one who up and disappeared for over a year!" He sank back into the chair. "I let Shane do as he likes around me because I trust him but when it's my turn, I…I _choke!_"

Reed threw himself onto the bed, facedown again. "Micah can give Shane what I can't—reciprocation and initiative. How is that…in any way…_normal_?"

"The choke part."

Reed looked up to see Kurt standing over him, already pulling on a jacket. He was smirking a little. "You think you're the only one in the planet who suddenly closes up in panic when they come near the person they like?"

"_You_ don't," Reed mumbled. "Micah certainly doesn't, it seems."

"I'm not you, Micah is also not you, and you're not either of us. And consider that when you think about how it's _you_ who Shane seems to really like. Still does, actually, if his behavior outside was any indication. What exactly, may I ask, are you doing wrong, then?"

And with a last burst of hairspray, he slipped out the door and left Reed to his thoughts. He immediately saw Blaine, already changed, approaching him. "How's Reed?"

"With any luck? Coming to his senses." Kurt smiled and said, "After this, can we please _please_ do something far away from this hysteria?"

Blaine took Kurt's hand and pulled him a little bit closer—just in time to keep him away from the door as a second blast rocked the floor—and nodded. "I can use a little bit of time away from this asylum too once in a while. That and…" he looked at Kurt intently, "…I have to talk to you about Parents' Night. Since…I'm meeting your parents again and…you're meeting mine."

"You look nervous."

"I'm very _very_ nervous." Blaine moved a hand through his hair. "After all…the last time parents got involved, that began my problems with Logan…"

"When did the "honeymoon" period end, anyway?"

"It didn't actually end with the incident I'm talking about. I'm just saying that when his father got involved, I started to learn how…volatile Logan was. That was around the time Windsor was going crazier than usual, because Wes was supposed to transfer in at last, and at the same time, Windsor received one more person."

* * *

"If you smile any harder, the entire top of your head is coming off."

Blaine elbowed David in the ribs, still carrying his box of things as he set it down on the bed. He had begun packing his things, even though David told him not to. The room could hold up to three people after all, and the both of them would be quite happy to have him stay with them. Blaine, however, had the opinion that if he had to room with the two of them, he was going to progressively ruin himself.

"Are you _that_ happy now that you're going out with Logan officially?" Wes asked as he helped Blaine track down all his textbooks. Wes was still technically a Hanover, but he was coming more and more often to Windsor now, and would be a Windsor permanently in a matter of days.

"You should see Blaine when Logan shows up at Windsor's doors. He drops everything and goes to see him," David smirked mercilessly, and Blaine resisted the urge to throw something at his friend.

"Is he the reason for the image switch?" Wes asked curiously. "When did you start fixing your hair like that?"

"Like what?" Blaine asked, self-consciously touching his head of black curls, which, while usually unruly, was now controlled by a heavy dosage of hair gel. Wes pretended to rap his knuckles onto Blaine's head and pretended to make a metal clanging sound. Blaine swatted him off, turning red. "Leave it alone."

"It's…definitely new," David grinned, prodding at it.

"What are you doing?" Wes asked, wide-eyed.

"Just…trying to look a little more put together, that's all…" Blaine mumbled, stuffing books into the box.

"Don't tell me you're trying to get "a little more put together" for Logan, please Blaine, don't tell me…"

"It's not!" but color soared into Blaine's face. "I just figured… seeing as how…you know, people think a bit more highly of me now—" and here Wes and David grinned at him, "—I could clean up a little, you know?"

"Yeah, but an entire bottle of gel, Blaine? Really? What are you trying to do, glue Logan to you?" Wes and David continued messing with Blaine's hair, and Blaine simply swatted them off, scarlet-faced, and stuffing books and things into boxes.

"Quit that for five seconds, we told you, we want you to stay, you were here first," Wes grabbed the books out of Blaine's hands.

"My grade point average doesn't want me to stay," Blaine grumbled back. "Hanging around the both of you will ruin all my concentration."

"That's not true," Wes protested. "David's got one of the best GPAs in Windsor!"

"It would be _the_ best GPA in Windsor if we didn't drive him nuts all the time, and now that _you're_ here—"

"Are you kidding? I _need_ the distraction. I'm not some grade-obsessed Stuart. No offense," he added to Blaine. "Darn it, it's hard to say nasty things about Stuart guys around you. Why'd you have to go and date one?"

Blaine just smiled remembering the practice with Logan yesterday. Logan had played music on the piano and started singing along to it and Blaine knew that the song was for him.

"Aaand we've lost him." Wes rolled his eyes, looking grossed out.

At that instant, someone came pounding at the door and it flew open to reveal Joshua looking wildly elated. "Come on! Charlie and the other upperclassmen are freaking out—check out the new kid! He won't let anyone near him!"

"New kid…?" The three boys in the room came running out to the railing that overlooked the entrance hall and saw the junior and senior boys crowding by the door and the Twins hanging over the staircase rail looking as wide-eyed as a pair of children at fairgrounds.

This was for a very excellent reason. The new boy—being given a large berth by the older boys—was standing at the door wearing a heavy trenchcoat, surrounded by his luggage that were still being brought in. The baggage consisted of suitcases and massive trunks that looked like the ones pirates usually unearthed out of beaches. The pale, dark-haired boy was staring at Ryan, the prefect, and Charlie, the unspoken leader of the junior boys.

"I don't understand," the new boy said coldly, but his eyes looked frightened. He was holding what looked like a sprayer of water. Around his feet was a white line of powdered substance, which still trickled from a small canister at his other hand—it was salt.

Ryan looked around a moment before saying, "Uh…look, freshman—"

"Dwight."

Ryan looked at the sheet in his hand. "This says your name is Thomas."

"Thomas Dwight Houston," the boy bristled as his butler continued to dump stuff around him, completely unperturbed by his charge's behavior. "If you call me Thomas or any variation thereof, I swear I will get my crossbow out."

"Okay, take it easy." Ryan stepped forward. The water sprayer immediately got raised to his face as the boy backed half a step further behind the salt line. The Twins looked deeply interested.

"Got ourselves a really crazy one here…" Charlie stared. "Howard's going to be _thrilled_."

"Shut up, Amos!" Ryan almost yelled and Charlie just rolled his eyes and shrugged. _What a pain._ Another Windsor who was just that little bit further off the deep end.

But it gave Blaine an idea. His eyes landed on the Twins, who now looked at him. Blaine quickly went past the others and whispered to the both of them. After listening carefully, the Twins smiled.

Ryan looked up as the Twins shoved forward among the ranks, so far forward that they just nearly tripped over the new boy's salt line. Dwight eyed them with marked suspicion, medallions and sprayer raised. "…doppelgangers…?"

"Hello!" they said cheerfully.

"What are they doing?" Joshua hissed to Blaine, clutching onto his shoulder.

Blaine grinned. "I don't know—but maybe it takes two people who can speak crazy to calm the new guy down?"

"What's wrong, new guy?" the towering Twins asked, smiling down at him and clearly unafraid of the water sprayer aimed at them. "What are you so scared of?"

The response was automatic. "This place is completely unprotected against any and all malignant beings alive, dead or undead. I can't be too careful _especially _in an ancient prep school."

The boys stared.

"You came prepared, huh?" the Twins were more amused now.

Dwight narrowed his eyes and kicked one of his trunks open. The boys around him took another wide-eyed step back at first, and then moved a little closer to inspect the collection of weapons and instruments that the trunk contained. They weren't guns—they were arrows, spikes, crystals, bottles with questionable contents and even an actual sword and shield (but the blade wasn't sharp and the shield was a miniature), encrusted with runes and rust.

"What…the…hell…?" Wes and David stared.

The Twins were sold on him immediately. "Most excellent, little Knight," they said, as they observed the 'weaponry'. "You'll fit right in."

"Pardon?" for the first time, the boy looked surprised, looking up from behind the sprayer. Later on, Dwight would explain that it was the first time in his history of education that he was told that he would "fit in".

Joshua laughed and shook his head. "Oh man…"

"You named him _already_…?" Ryan asked, looking long-suffering, knowing what was going to happen next. He had succeeded the long-suffering Peter, who the Twins attacked the very day they set foot into Dalton.

"Would you like to see _our_ collection of weaponry?" the Twins asked politely, hands behind their backs, holding nerf guns.

Dwight slowly lowered his sprayer a fraction. "_You_…have weaponry…?"

* * *

As mayhem erupted in Windsor House once the Twins officially started attacking the newbie—who was currently running around the second floor screaming his lungs out and flinging salt and holy water everywhere, other Windsors ducking for cover—Joshua knocked at Blaine's door, with a small smile. "Hey. Your boyfriend's here."

Blaine looked up from the window where he was talking on the phone. "I _know_, Shane. Shut up, we haven't done anything." He looked embarrassed. "Yeah. Take care out there. Bye." He hung up and tucked his phone away, looking up at Joshua. "What?"

"Your boyfriend's waiting outside."

Blaine smiled faintly, feeling a twinge as he usually did when Joshua got involved. From the very beginning, they both had liked Logan, but it steadily became obvious that Logan was far more interested in Blaine than Joshua. Logan was reasonably civil enough with Joshua, who had auditioned for the Warblers and successfully passed, but his attentions seemed mainly diverted towards Blaine. He was the only one he ever actually flirted with.

After that, it got awkward, especially when Logan suddenly became friendly with Blaine, sitting with him for no reason and handing him coffee between classes or even just talking to him. It was because Joshua was often with Blaine as this happened, and Blaine saw a riot of emotions going past his eyes when the other boy would excuse himself. Whatever it was, Joshua refused to let it be _too_ obvious, though, and remained incredibly supportive.

_That's_ why it was awkward.

"Blaine!" Joshua's voice prompted him, tearing him from reverie. "Blaine, you're keeping an incredibly handsome gay boy waiting downstairs. I will _throw_ you down there if you don't get moving."

"Right!" Blaine glanced at himself in the mirror, then down at his clothes. "Do I look all right?"

"What did you do to your _head_?" Joshua gaped, prodding the solid mass of curls.

"Oh god, I'm not going out there."

And then the next thing he knew, Joshua was hurling him out the door. "Clean cup! Move down!" he yelled loudly into the noise in the hall.

Blaine fell into the Twins, who caught him by the arms and cheerfully went hurtling down the hallway. "Move down!" and they tossed Blaine forward into David, who was standing by the top of the stairs.

David caught Blaine's arm and grinned. "Move down!" He pulled Blaine down the staircase, passing Reed, who smiled and waved at their progress.

"Move down!" Wes called up to the others as he caught Blaine the moment David released him. Wes was the one who yanked Blaine along and then threw him forward in the entrance hall, sending him stumbling all the way out—

—and into a powerful pair of arms.

"We're not in that much of a hurry, but it's nice to see you too," Logan said, smiling down at Blaine with those intense eyes of his.

"Hi," Blaine said quickly, hastily getting himself together as he straightened up, face heating up. "The people in my dorm are insane, that's all."

"Bring him back in one piece, Knave," the Twins threatened—all too seriously—from inside.

With the ease of someone with a great deal of practice, Logan ignored them as he simply slipped his arm around Blaine's shoulder, leading him out towards where the car he called for was waiting. "I take it that I was just in time. Windsor seems to have gotten a live one in there." Logan grinned and looked back towards where Windsor House was still engaged in some serious bedlam.

Blaine laughed, letting Logan's fingers twine into his as he looked up at him. "Where exactly are we going tonight?"

"I was thinking of having Italian this time," Logan answered, keeping him close against him. "Is that all right with you?"

"Anywhere is fine as long as it doesn't involve you having anything you're allergic to again," Blaine grinned.

"Please, like I want you to see me like that again," Logan shook his head with a laugh. "I'm not about to bring us both running to an emergency room."

"Yeah, your friends seem to still think I'm responsible for that."

"Don't mind them," Logan rolled his eyes, looking irritated, remembering Derek and Julian's reaction when they heard he and Blaine were in the ER. "They like sticking their noses into my business. How were you supposed to know that I can't eat crab anyway?"

Blaine smiled a little. "By telling me? You know, there's a whole lot about you that I don't know just yet."

Logan gazed at him and smiled slightly. "…I'm not sure you're ready to see all of me just yet."

"I'm not?" Blaine looked at him, trying to catch his eye. "You know a lot about me, why can't it be the same in my end?"

"Because unlike you, I have a lot more flaws." Logan smirked. He leaned down and stole a kiss from Blaine, making the other boy turn away with a light blush—he never understood how Logan found it so easy to do such things. Logan only seemed amused, and, as he had sometimes told Blaine, too happy to care. Logan never really cared about what anyone thought of him or what he did…

…it was something Blaine would have to get used to.

They went out more or less regularly—Logan, from time to time, complained about the swill they serve in the cafeteria (some of the best school nourishment Blaine had seen in his life) and preferred eating out with Blaine when they could afford to do so.

But while it seemed like another of those dinners out that their friends in both Houses weren't entirely thrilled about, this one in particular was the first time Blaine discovered, to some extent, exactly why Logan didn't want him finding out things about him just yet.

It was in the middle of dinner when Logan got the call. The conversation had been about what they planned to do after high school. While Blaine intended to go to a school with an excellent focus on theater and take it from there, Logan seemed to literally have no plans—even though it would seem that his way was mapped out towards Political Science, he certainly wasn't all that willing to let go of singing. Blaine thought it was strange that he would be geared towards—

That was when the call came. Logan had glared at it the moment it appeared on his screen and that was the first sign. He seemed both surprised and furious at the sight of it. Blaine had never seen such a reaction on him, and had to ask. "Who is it?"

"No one important," Logan snapped as he pushed it to the side of the table. But his mood remained bad as the phone continued to vibrate. Whoever was calling refused to stop, and it just kept on. Logan's mood worsened as it continued.

Finally Blaine just said, "Pick up the call, already. Whoever it is isn't going to stop."

"Unfortunately not," Logan snarled, picking up the phone and taking the call furiously. "It's really nice of you to grace me with your attention for once! What did I do now?" the boy snapped at the caller with such venom in his voice that Blaine was startled.

Logan's expression only worsened. "What the hell are you—I haven't _done_ anyth—" Whoever was on the other end was yelling, more furiously than Logan was being. Logan rose and stormed right out of the restaurant and immediately followed.

He found Logan outside engaged in a heated battle. "I don't care!" he snarled into the phone. "You're not blaming this one on me, I've been in freaking Westerville all this time—" color soared into Logan's face suddenly. "So what? I went back to New York with Derek and Julian, we were there for two days, we didn't even do a damn thing, Michelle can tell—!"

Blaine stared at him. Logan only got angrier. "No. You heard me, no, I haven't—it's not like you actually give a rat's—! I don't have to listen to this!" he hung up and literally flung the phone away the way Blaine only ever saw done in movies.

Concerned, Blaine went up to him and touched his arm. "Logan—"

With a sudden swing, Logan swatted his hand away angrily, Blaine's wrist turning red. "Just leave it the hell the alone!"

"What's the matter with you?" Blaine asked. "Who _was_ that?"

"Well what the hell do you think?" Logan snapped, towering over him angrily. "Not that it's any of your damn business, but it's my damn father doing what he does best—being a complete and total piece of—"

Blaine stood staring at him in shock and Logan seemed to realize exactly who he was talking to. With great effort he tore away from Blaine and walked a short distance off in a storm of frustrated fury. He looked up at the sky as though demanding answers from it that it could never actually give.

Blaine rubbed his wrist and walked to him carefully, looking his boyfriend over in concern. "Logan…"

The taller boy held up a hand, as though to stop him from going on or saying anything further. He was visibly controlling himself, and in the end, that hand fell over Blaine's. The shorter boy looked down at it and then at him, smiling a little. "Hey. Come on."

Logan looked at him for a long moment and shook his head. "…I was just…"

"You think you're the only one who has problems with his father?" Blaine asked gently.

He felt Logan's hand clench upon his tightly, surprising him. He put his other hand over Logan's and looked up at him intently. "It's okay."

Logan seemed to let out his breath, clutching tight onto his hand. "No…it's not."

* * *

"I'd never seen him angry like that before," Blaine murmured as he sat on his bed later that night. Joshua was lying at the foot of the bed with sheet music. He was a Warbler now, and he seemed dedicated to the task. "D'you have any idea what all that was about?"

For a moment, Joshua gave him a long look. "You really haven't heard? I thought if he hadn't told you, you'd hear about it. It's not exactly a secret."

"Our dorm atmosphere isn't exactly conducive to discussions about Stuarts," Blaine responded.

"That, and clearly, you're not that into politics," Joshua grinned as he sat next to Blaine. "You don't know that his father is Senator John Logan Wright? They do have the same name. And the same temper."

Blaine stared at him. "His father is _who—_?"

"Yes, that one," Joshua sighed. "The one Logan got into some hot water when he proved having a…temper of his own. No one outside of Stuart knows anything about it, but… my brother told me that Logan did something back in Manhattan. Only Derek and Julian know the whole story, but whatever it is, it was really bad. Logan and the Senator haven't gotten along, like, ever… But whatever Logan did to make his dad angry that time, it was the last straw. He sent him packing here, pretty much exiled him."

"Nobody _ever_ tells me anything worth knowing early on!" Blaine flopped down onto the bed with a groan.

"Why?" Joshua asked with a small smile. "Would you have rejected him if you knew that he and his dad have problems?"

"No…" Blaine stared at the ceiling. "I have problems with my dad too, you know. I know what it's like." He paused before adding, "I just wanted to know. So I wouldn't have to tread that line again. You should have seen how angry he got, Josh."

"Logan gets upset easily," Joshua admitted, leaning against Blaine. "But you shouldn't take it too personally. Some people have a short temper, that's all."

Blaine smiled and leaned against his friend. "…you know more about him than I do."

"Of course I do," Joshua smirked. "When I have a crush on someone, I try to find out all I can! I don't have it easy like some _other_ people…" He grinned at Blaine.

"About that…" Blaine now turned to his friend with a frown. "…shouldn't we…I don't know, talk about it? You were here first, and you liked him a while—you _still_ like him—"

"Blaine." Joshua laughed. "You're being stupid. Look, I don't go after guys who are tied down. And it's not a matter of who got there first, it's a matter of who the other guy likes. And he likes you, not me, obviously."

Joshua flopped down next to him, grinning. "Besides, so what if I still like him? He's pretty gorgeous, Blaine, hard not to! Come on, can you _honestly_ say that if I was in your spot, you wouldn't still think he was hot even though he's taken?"

"You're insane," Blaine laughed, pushing him off the bed into a laughing heap on the floor.

"No, _you_ _both _are," David remarked from where he was doing math homework and getting frustrated about it. But he smiled at them. "You both have awful taste in dudes." This only made the two of them laugh harder. David rolled his eyes as Joshua got up and draped himself on him, still laughing.

"Don't worry, David," Joshua said happily, hugging him. "When Wes comes over, you two can talk about girls all you like, Blaine and I will do the bonding time."

"Nah, I have the feeling you both will need us," David grinned. "Hey, _someone_'s going to have to keep up with your crazy."

The door blew open and the Twins came running in. "Run!" they yelled gleefully as they leapt over the couch in the room. "Run! The new guy's after us!" They erupted into laughter and dived behind the couch as Dwight came running in carrying one of the Twins' paintball guns, shooting like there was no tomorrow.

* * *

"Kurt? Can I talk to you for a minute? Alone?"

Kurt looked up and saw Shane looking at him, apprehensive. Erin, Becca and Micah continued to talk amongst themselves over the dinner table, but Blaine looked up. Shane glanced to him for a moment, and then turned his worried green-gray eyes back to Kurt.

"Please?" he asked.

Kurt glanced to Blaine, who looked up at his brother and asked, "What's wrong?"

"I just have to talk to Kurt about something," Shane said, looking at him with would-be innocent eyes, but his brother had already seen the concern. Blaine sat still, looking up at him. "If this is about Reed, I'm fine hearing it. He's my friend too."

"Kurt knows him better, he's his roommate…" Shane murmured sadly.

Micah looked up from the table. Shane blanched and looked down quickly at Kurt, touching his elbow. "Come on, please? It'll be really quick and it's going to get really awkward really fast if we talk here."

Kurt sighed and rose, nodding to Blaine. "I'll talk to him. I also promise not to hurt him unless he says something particularly stupid."

"That'll be nearly as soon as I talk," Shane sighed.

Kurt caught Shane by the elbow and pulled him out of the restaurant and into the cold night air outside. For a moment, Shane seemed to try to collect his thoughts in an attempt to make the least ridiculous way of saying what he wants to say.

So Kurt curbed it. "What did you want to explain to Reed that he didn't seem to want to listen to earlier?"

"Is he angry with me?" Shane immediately asked.

"He's having problems dealing with the fact that you and your ex are incredibly close."

"He's…well if you're being technical about it, he's not actually my ex—" Shane blanched at the judging expression that Kurt bestowed on him. "I mean…yeah, I'm not helping my case, am I."

"He's _aware_ that the last time you and Micah had seen each other, no actual 'breaking up' had happened. Micah just disappeared. And from the conversation over at dinner, it looks like Micah didn't have a choice."

Shane winced, because his family was tied to that. The suspicions he and Blaine have always had about Micah was true—Mr. Anderson had outed Micah to the Randalls, and threatened them against their son coming to see his sons again. The Randalls were horrified—between Micah's orientation or Mr. Anderson's threats, it was hard to be sure which they were more horrified at—and Micah fought them every inch of the way, but he was sent to some highly religious relatives in North Carolina to "straighten" him out.

Micah had been more or less locked away there, until his school there sent him and schoolmates to the same San Francisco book fair that he ran into Erin and Becca in. Officially, Micah was on the run even though he sent a message to his parents about leaving with his friends. No one knew he was in Ohio save for his old friends. He was knee deep in some serious trouble now, but the quiet boy belied nothing in his countenance.

"Parents' Night is going to be incredible," Shane muttered bitterly. "I'm not going back to Colorado until that's over because I'm going to explode on dad for the first time, I think I actually will. How could he _do_ that to Micah? He can't just go around threatening—"

"Shane." Kurt stared at him. "What did you want to ask me about?"

"Does he hate me?" Shane asked.

"No." Kurt rolled his eyes. "You have to stop asking other people that every five seconds and ask him yourself."

"I'm too afraid the answer will be yes if I asked him."

Kurt patted his shoulder. "Would it help if I told you that he's shying away from you because you haven't even made up _your_ mind? I can tell at this point that you're torn between Micah and Reed."

Shane groaned and fell squatting onto the walk, hands buried into his curly thatch of hair. "I hate this! I mean on the one hand—and then on the other—Kurt, I'm not a bad person, right? Am I completely evil for even having this problem?"

"It just got confusing," Kurt responded with a deep sigh. "Happens a lot around here. Things getting complicated really fast."

"…I wish I was like you."

That made Kurt look down towards him. Shane was staring miserably at the pavement. "…Blaine says…you're always so confident. Even when things got so rough at your old school…you knew who you were, when you set your mind to something, you did it. You made your own decisions." He threw a pebble away. "…I wish I was more like you."

Kurt smiled a little, feeling strangely affectionate at the younger boy. Sighing, he laid a hand on Shane's head. "Well not everyone can be like me."

"What would you do?" Shane asked, looking up at him with worried eyes. "If you were in my place, what would you do?"

"That's pointless. Because the question is what you should do, not what I should do. What I choose to do has nothing to do with you." Kurt squatted down carefully and looked at Shane. "You don't love both of them the same way, Shane. You can love them both, but not the same way. And if you can figure out which one you love which way, you have your answer."

Shane stared back at him, still a little anxious, and murmured, "…was that…how you figured out Blaine and Logan?"

Kurt turned away from him, looking distant and thoughtful. He carefully stood, brushing his pants off. "No." He glanced back into the restaurant, where he immediately caught Blaine's warm gaze. "…there just wasn't a doubt in my head that it was Blaine, between him and Logan." He smiled back at his boyfriend. "…it was always Blaine."

Shane smiled faintly, looking out into the shadows. "Blaine told me that…you were different from when it was with Logan. With Logan, he felt like he was always on his guard. Like…trying to pick your way through a swamp. But with you…it felt easy. It just felt…like seeing you smile was all he needed." He stared. "…is that how it's supposed to feel like?"

It was the way he said it. Kurt, surprised and a little pleased, now turned to look at him again. "Shane…" he said, as he headed for the door, a curious smile on his face, "…why do I get the feeling that you already know your answer…? And you're just worried about how it would affect the other one?"

When Shane glanced up at him, Kurt smiled and disappeared back into the restaurant.

* * *

When Kurt and Blaine returned to Dalton, it was late. They were pushing curfew as it was, and they had to hurry back to Windsor. They had just barely made it in as Charlie was preparing to lock the House up. He didn't seem too upset to see them—at least they had come on time and through the doors. It was considered normal for Windsors to break in by way of the windows when they were out way too late.

Blaine gave him a goodnight kiss that lasted too long. The way he held him made Kurt look up at him curiously. In response, Kurt touched Blaine's wrist. After a moment's pause, he said, "…is it really so hard for you to think about what happened then? Because we haven't even gotten to the bad part."

"No." Blaine smiled, keeping Kurt close against him. "Everything just reminded me how…insanely lucky I was…that I came down those stairs when I did. That you touched my arm when you did, and asked me what was going on."

Kurt smirked. "You're being melodramatic."

"No, I'm crazy about you." Blaine grinned. "Hey, you have to admit, that's as lucky as someone gets," he laughed. "A hundred boys were running down those stairs, but it was me you stopped."

"My taste is impeccable," Kurt replied with a smile.

"Apparently so," Blaine laughed.

"You have to admit, all this is helping you and Logan get along," Kurt told him pointedly. "It only looks as though you would like to stab each other, and not throw each other in the path of a school bus."

"Well, you did want us to…work all this out. Progress is progress, I guess." But Blaine leaned close and whispered, "But I still don't want him near the both of us for awhile."

"I'm sure." Kurt smirked at his proximity.

Blaine kissed him gently again. "See you tomorrow."

"Your story isn't finished."

"I know." Blaine smiled at the door. "But we have time."

* * *

It wasn't until Windsor was silent, after Kurt closed the door to his room, finding it still completely lit and Reed asleep on his schoolbooks, that Han finished a riveting Starcraft battle and sank his head down onto his hands. He rubbed his eyes from under his glasses before sighing, feeling tired and leaning his head back, feeling it crackle. He felt stiff and maybe he should rest even for half an hour.

…that was when he saw the movement.

It wasn't often that Hansel Westwood took a really good look at his screens during the boring nighttime when everyone was asleep. He usually only looked through them when Windsor was carrying out another crazy plan that night, or if the Twins expressly requested him to.

Tonight, one of his bugs picked up something strange, and he just happened to look in the right time.

The same way Kurt just happened to glance out a second-floor window as he went out to get a glass of milk, the one facing Stuart House, at the right time.

It was a shadow of movement—that had just fled Stuart House.

Kurt's mind flashed.

_I have this stalker…_

He went running down the stairs, feet thumping and sounding hollow on the wood steps.

_How she gets into the school, I don't know…_

Dwight wasn't unaccustomed to the sound of activity outside in the halls past curfew, but this felt different. He rose, picking up his holy water sprayer, and headed out his door, going through the hallway. He reached the upper landing just in time to see a body clothed in silk pajamas—too fashionable for a lot of the boys to bother with, and too tall to be the smaller fashionista—vanishing into the entrance hall.

"Kurt…?"

…_but she left me a "present" the other day…_

Han frowned at the screen, seeing something in the trees at Stuart House. Was it someone calling in another prank that he just didn't know about?

But he couldn't zoom in any closer, or even get a good look at it. He looked up at the Windsor cams just as Kurt vanished out the door. _Where's he going?_

_I want to tell someone, anyone…_

Kurt was running across the grounds, looking around for any sign of movement, hoping to spot whoever it was. Being once at the receiving end of an actual death threat, things like the ones Julian described were taken seriously in his book. If no one knew…if that _was_ that stalker again…someone should tell Stuart House that she paid another visit.

…_but I…I can't. Because…_

"Kurt?" Dwight didn't like it when people went around willy-nilly during the nighttime. Who knew _what_ malignant undead beings ran around this old private school at this time of night?

He looked around outside Windsor and saw his friend running towards Stuart House. "Kurt!" _Oh man, I better get him before a vampire does or something and Blaine __**freaks out**__. _He ran.

…_because what if she's too close? What if…_

Han saw Kurt's figure enter his "Stuart bug's" field of view. He started to feel a little apprehensive, looking into what few bugs on the grounds he had. There was just something wrong with this picture. What was Kurt doing at this hour?

…_well if she knows where I am and where I stay…_

Kurt looked around for anything unusual in the silence.

The steps were empty. The trees looked quiet as he wandered around them. The lights were on at a number of windows in Stuart House. The occupants _were_ usually up late. There was just no way anyone would be stupid enough to do anything. Not even Windsors went this early to prank someone.

…_there's no telling what else she knows…_

"Kurt!"

The hand that grabbed his arm nearly made Kurt scream and he turned around to see Dwight's startled expression. "Dude, what are you _doing_ here?" the panicked sophomore hissed.

Kurt let out a sigh of relief and swatted at his arm with a glare. "Don't scare me like that!"

"_Me_?" Dwight stared, and he looked annoyed. "You're the one running around past curfew, like you don't _normally_ do?" He gave Kurt an all-too-suspicious look. "…you're not coming here to see Logan, are you? Ow! Ow!" Kurt had started to hit his arm again and he squirmed away.

"No, I was _not_!"

"I was just _asking_!"

"Go back to the dorm," Kurt grumbled, pushing him back to the direction of Windsor. "Let's go. There's nothing here."

"Oh, were you out hunting?" Dwight asked, perking up and looking a little interested. "What were you tracking?"

"Nothing you should know about. Go? Now?"

"Hey, I'll have you know that I'm good at tracking down things that wander around school at night! I totally nearly caught that rodent that was rooting at Charlie's flower beds in the greenhouse!"

"_Go, _Dwight."

"Did I mention that the chapel bell is haunted by this dead girl who got brokenhearted by one of the guys in this academy twenty-five years ago?"

Kurt rolled his eyes. What was he even doing out here. So he saw something outside. Big deal, the boys in this school could barely be constrained by curfew, it was probably some Stuart who was coming late from seeing some girl. It was probably Derek for all he knew.

This all was temporary insanity. Clearly it was rubbing off on him. Maybe if he got some sleep, all these secrets rapidly unraveling around him would stop getting to him this badly.

…_and who else she could get to._

Dwight took Kurt's lack of response as a sign that he was getting really annoyed and just fell silent. No one in this school really understood the actual danger that some of them could get into by not being prepared enough against malignant forces beyond their comprehension.

It ranged from bad luck to pure evil, and sometimes it could be really hard to tell the difference if the rest of the school wasn't so hell-bent on being stranger than they already were.

Dwight glanced up for a moment at the direction of the block of buildings to South and Main, and for a moment, he blinked. He had thought, for a moment, that he had looked up just when a light went out at the Dalton Art Hall, and that unsettling, fleeting image of blond hair.

But the rest of the building was cold and empty, and only the Twins wandered about everywhere that was locked, so maybe they were in there, wreaking havoc or making some interesting "redecorations".

Either that, or even that Hall is haunted. But then again, what else was new in this school…?

Besides, if it was the Twins, he expected to hear about it in the morning.

* * *

At school the next day, the hall was full of students bustling to get to class and arguing over what tests they were having and what they were taking up for the day, who did what, where and when, and various other mundane things that he couldn't be bothered to deal with.

Parents Night approached. Everyone was too busy. It was easy to slip in and out of the throng.

There. Him.

He spotted the boy immediately—it was hard not to. The boy was a little luminescent as opposed to the rest of the students in the hall. Maybe it was the way he stood or walked and moved. People knew him—who didn't know a star?

He followed the boy peaceably, biding his time waiting for him to become alone.

He looked pale today, as though he didn't get much sleep. Pity. He had wanted to meet him in his best condition. The boy was stopped, from time to time, by people he knew in the hallways, or those who simply needed to talk to him for one reason or another.

He hurried on the down the hall, seeing that the boy would be alone soon, looking a little tired. Of course he would be, if he was starting to put two and two together. It really was something to think about.

Just what did he already know? What had he said to other people?

And more importantly…was it time to act, and make sure everything stays quiet?

He saw him stop, put down his books and telltale coffee cup on the table, possibly waiting for those who were apparently his friends. He walked to him, as he arranged his books, stepping up behind him. He felt a slick of amusement as the boy jumped when he turned and found him there.

"Hello, Kurt. I'm Adam. Can I talk to you for a minute?"

The Windsor diva smiled. "Sure."

* * *

**_In the next episode: _**_Hell Night approaches. Pressure is in all directions as everyone is pressed to be on their very best for their esteemed parents, ready or not. In the past, in the present, things are coming to a head. The boys throw flares of mischief into the foreboding future in an attempt to light their way. Everyone, absolutely everyone, is laying plans._


	26. Hell Night

_Hi, I'm CP Coulter and I'm your author for this fic._

_And so, after roughly three months of embarrassing delay...I am able to present to you, to the best of my ability, the three-part Episode 26 which revolves around Hell Night, and what could basically be the most cataclysmic event in Dalton Academy's history. I deeply and profusely apologize for this overlong hiatus. 26 altogether is over 60,000 words in total, and I have decided (to make it easier for readers to digest, as requested by vote in Tumblr) to separate it into three parts, each part going up approximately one each day. Once all three parts are up, I will re-edit the episode to be one 60,000-word episode._

_Things come to a bitter climax in this episode as many things happen simultaneously, with Kurt caught in the whirlwind of prep and Hell Night itself. Just like Alice, he had no intentions of being a part of some fatal croquet game. He deals with things as best as he could, as rationally as he thought he could, but there are simply some evils in the world that, sooner or later, people will have to face. No one asks to be put in danger like this, and no one expects something like this to happen in the places where they feel safest. But it takes all kinds of people to make a world, and sometimes some people are simply far darker and more dangerous than we give them credit for, which is why daily, we warily look over our shoulders, watching out for them._

_I apologize for the time it took to put this out. I am so terribly terribly grateful to everyone who has stood by this fic and me throughout this time, and my gratitude really does know no bounds. I hope to do my very best. You all have given me so much more than I could ever hope for. a_

_And as always, I do hope you enjoy this episode. _

* * *

**Dalton**

* * *

**Episode 26**

**Hell Night (PART 1)**

* * *

_Grant stood protectively in front of Leonard, the drummer. Grant was facing and glaring angrily down at the new bartender now sprawled on the ground following a powerful punch. The vocalist shook out his hand, grumbling, "I need my hands to play guitar, you know."_

"_Grant—" Leonard stood, putting his hand on their lead's shoulder—but Grant swatted him off. "Shut up!" _

"_Wait, Grant—stop!" Matthew began in alarm, but the vocalist strode up to the bartender, grabbed him by the shirt and flung him onto a wall. Grant held him there, glaring with enough force to melt glass. The usually self-contained, brooding air of the vocalist was now lost._

"_If you touch Leonard again—if you make a single comment, a single __**look**__ that could be taken as an __**insult**__ against him—if so much as __**breathe**__ in his immediate vicinity—!" Grant shoved the other body into the wall again, sending bottles rattling and girl gasping. A flick of the hand and a switchblade was out._

_Everyone in the bar froze. Matthew couldn't move, staring in horror._

"_How does it feel?" Grant's tone dropped dangerously. "Do you like it? Being pressed to the wall with a blade at your head? Just because some asshole felt like doing this you? Isn't that what you did to him?"_

_Grant slammed the blade into the wood three inches from the bartender's head and everyone around cried out or gasped in shock. The musician glared. "Consider this your final warning, bastard. Because if you come near Lenny again, I will personally make your life here at Whitebrook a living hell—just so you know what it feels like."_

_Self-possession came back. Grant released him and the patrons stifled gasps as shot glasses clinked off the shelves when the new bartender fell. _

"_And you!" Grant nearly screamed at Leonard, hauling him to his feet. "What the hell took you so long to tell anyone what he had been doing to you?"_

"_I just—" the drummer choked, not sure if he should be scared or relieved, but Grant released him the moment he could stand. The vocalist looked furious._

"_The next time someone gives you a hard time because you're fucking gay, you tell me, you understand? You don't—you don't just take it! You tell __**me,**__ got it? You think I'm just going to stand and watch? What—you think just because you like guys, you're not a human being enough for me to care? I don't give crap if you're gay or straight or bi or lesbian—or emo or punk or nerd or geek or Mary freaking Poppins! Whatever the hell else they use to try and classify whatever you have to be."_

_Grant was livid and his eyes bore down at his friend. "You are not crap, you are not garbage, and __**no one **__ in this planet has the right to do the things he did to you for being who you are. You're a human being and that's the only damn point! And you have to understand that you're my __**friend**__, Leonard, and I will __**always**__ have your back on that! Always!"_

_Tears raced to Leonard's eyes. He choked, and he hadn't expected this reaction from Grant at all. "Yeah," he choked tremulously. He was clearly restraining the urge to sob. "Yeah, I got it, man."_

_The vocalist, still panting, now turned to the other patrons of the bar. "Anyone else got any problems with Lenny liking other dudes? Because you better say something now while we can all talk about it!"_

_There was a disturbed but very low murmuring from the vividly-dressed Pulse customers. Matthew grabbed his shoulder. "Stop it, Grant," he hissed. "You've made enough of a scene. Let's just get out of here. We have to get someone to look at that wrist of Lenny's."_

_Grant grabbed his friend's good wrist and hauled him out of Pulse, furious. Dennis, very unsettled by the ongoings, yelled shakily, "Townsend—your band better not set foot in this bar again, you hear me?"_

"_We don't need your bar! We're going back to Blacktop!" Grant screamed back before Matthew managed to slam the door shut._

A knock on the door, and the boy on the couch jumped, having been so single-mindedly focused on the screen. He had been lost in the passion that the actor had displayed, at the sincerity of his words—as though he wasn't even acting anymore.

And he hadn't been. Didn't he say, over and over, that he might have done the same to anyone who would hurt someone else due to sexuality? That was simply the kind of person he had been. The entire episode—Season Two, Episode Eighteen: _Pulse Pounder—_was the one that cemented Grant's presence in the Something Damaged cast for at least two seasons, or some speculations said.

The knock repeated.

"Hey, man, you in here?"

Muttering under his breath, the boy closed the laptop and rose from his chair, making sure that his table was neat and empty. He moved towards the door, taking some deep breaths, and smiled as he opened the door.

"Yes?"

* * *

_(Hanover House: 2 days to Hell Night.)_

Danny Abbot grinned from outside the door, his uniform neat as usual, Hanover badge gleaming on his shirt collar. "Hey, new guy! Come on. Our Prefect calls for a meeting."

"Right," Adam nodded immediately, understanding the rules of Hanover House perfectly well. "I'll be right out, give me a second."

Danny nodded and stepped back. He walked down the hall, nodding at some boys who emerged from their rooms, heading downstairs to the meeting room. They greeted him as a sign of respect—Danny was to be the new prefect next year, once Justin graduated.

As Danny glanced back down the hall, he saw Adam emerge from the room he just left. He did find something odd about the new boy who had his few moments of almost startling intensity. Danny pushed the thought away for now. He might be rooming with him soon anyway. Adam had been lucky—everyone else had roommates or had a single in Hanover, and so the new one had his own room for a time. However, Danny might end up rooming with him in an attempt to get the new boy to become a little more talkative. He seemed nice enough…and Danny hadn't had a roommate since Wes moved to Windsor.

Adam jogged down the steps along with some of the other boys. Spencer Willis stood waiting at the landing, keeping count of the boys.

As Adam passed him, he looked up. "Hey! Clavell, wait!"

Adam turned back to him, and saw Spencer picking something up off the floor. For a moment, the dark-haired boy tensed as their Prefect's best friend picked up the head of a rose from the floor, having fallen out of his pocket.

Spencer grinned and held it out to him. "You dropped this."

"Uh…thanks." Adam nodded awkwardly and grabbed it from him—much too tightly; he felt it crush in his hand as he pocketed it hastily. He gave Spencer a searching glance.

Spencer only smiled, oblivious. "Planning on giving it to someone special?"

It was now that Adam began to smile.

"Yes. Someone very special."

* * *

_I'm Kurt. And this is Dalton Academy._

_Hell Night._

_Defined as: _

_The popular student term for the one night a year that their esteemed parents, family members, guardian ad litems and/or lawyers come to school to get updated about their achievements, what has happened in the year, and what to expect. _

_The one night a year which can rival the stress levels of finals, when all the students are expected to show off the very best of their skills and abilities, with certain notable ones taking center stage._

_The one night a year that is prepared for by means of all the wrong stress-relievers._

_The one night where all plans, no matter how well thought out, can and __**will**__ go wrong._

* * *

Charlie narrowed his eyes. "I'm only going to ask this once."

The Twins looked bored.

David glanced off out to the windows, as though wondering if anything interesting was there.

Wes picked at his nails.

Dwight rolled his eyes.

Reed tilted his head and blinked innocently.

Kurt raised an eyebrow.

Blaine simply cleared his throat.

"Which one of you…let that animal loose on Stuart House?"

And there followed the most amused bout of silence in the world.

_(Windsor House: 1 day to Hell Night.)_

"I'm serious!" Charlie was almost yelling as the Windsors around them continued to gear up for the party they planned to hold that night, with the main conspirators seated on the couches and chairs, looking deeply, _deeply_ amused for people who supposedly had absolutely nothing to do with the latest in the bout of pranks. "Which one of you did it, come on!"

No one was actually sure when it began. Both sides had their own ideas, but Kurt was pretty sure that Windsor _had _to be the one that needed the outlet first and started it all.

It was nearing Parents' Night when the first salvos were fired. Stuart House members were completely unable to leave their house one morning. The front door and side doors were sealed tight with some kind of adhesive so thick that it was virtually impenetrable, having seeped well into the bolts. The windows were sealed the same way. It required Logan, Derek and two other varsity boys to smash their doors open again.

While this would normally be chalked up to typical Windsor shenanigans, all the Stuarts were pushed to certain breaking points that required them to now retaliate in a similar fashion. Windsor House nearly throttled Han for letting it happen—"What, I was busy trying to fix a security bug in my servers at the same time!"—but they came back to find their laundry covered with what was, according to Dwight, the scummy black pond water from the old fountain near the greenhouse. Kurt and Reed were positively horrified at the condition of their clothes.

It was a declaration of war. And it was somewhere around the time that all of Stuart House, their books and notes, were drenched in water after their sprinkler system went off—around the time that Windsor House occupants found the tires of their cars all without air—that Kurt wondered if they were all just collectively out of their minds. Maybe Windsor was just a little more upfront about it.

"This is getting ridiculous," Kurt had declared one morning when he found the Stuart occupants angrily trying to retrieve all their shirts, ties and blazers from the trees around their house.

"This is actually warming up," Blaine had corrected him as Windsor was evacuated yet again as someone had thrown a beehive into their common room.

"What are they going to do, just keep doing this to each other until someone gives up?" Kurt demanded.

"It's been twenty-five years," Dwight made a face, clearly on high defensive, remaining in his constant state of suspicious alertness. "I don't think _anyone_ is giving up anytime soon."

This was relatively true. This went on to the point that Windsor and Stuarts traveled in packs in the hall for safety, shooting each other looks that ranged from loathing—directly after a hit—to amusement—prelude to retaliation.

The Administration wasn't thrilled. They put up with this with as little menace as they could, having been used to this kind of thing for a while, but when the attacks started happening in more public areas that could've potentially hit day students and teachers—a group of Stuarts who frequented one of the tables in the lounge put down their coffee and books and the entire table went out from under them—they called for the Prefects.

The order: A ceasefire on the battle.

According to Ramsey, "If you _must_ put your efforts elsewhere _other_ than their rightful place in your academics, put them into adequately preparing to at least meet your parents and families' Herculean expectations." Windsor and Stuart were to put aside their hostilities (or at least dial them down a little); Hanover was tasked to also keep down their madness and at the same time hold the two battle lines apart. If further incidents happened, the Prefects would be personally held responsible—and all the boys knew that the Prefects, all of them, can become unpleasant when it was their necks on the line.

But that never actually _stopped_ anyone from trying to retaliate, if they could get away with it.

Which was why Charlie now had all the conspirators gathered in the living room, especially following yet another incident in Stuart House, a mere day before Hell Night.

"Charlie," David said expansively, a very mild smile on his face, "what makes Stuart think it's a prank by us? These sorts of things can happen!"

"_An actual goat_ does not simply wander into campus, _especially_ into a dormitory with _keycard locks_ on every door," Charlie crossed his arms over his chest, glowering deeply.

"It was a goat, Charlie, not a dragon," Blaine said simply in a noncommittal tone.

"It ate someone's Advanced Calculus notes!" Charlie shot back.

"They could copy those from someone else…" Dwight narrowed his eyes.

"They were _Logan's_ Calculus notes!"

"You're telling me that he _didn't_ have that coming in any way, shape or form?" Wes raised an eyebrow.

"Wes—" Kurt gave Wes a pointed look and the other boy just threw up his hands.

Charlie hissed as he let out his breath, rubbing his eyes, and he looked exasperated. "Logan's been a prime target for the past forty-eight hours. It _has_ to be one of you. No one else usually has the balls to repeatedly assault him."

"Excuse me?" Kurt raised an eyebrow. "Prime target?"

"He nearly slipped down one of the staircases and would've nearly broken his neck, not to mention a stepladder nearly fell on him that might have concussed _or_ decapitated him, and someone apparently slipped him a candy bar with peanuts in it—!"

"Peanuts?" Reed whispered in askance to Blaine, who glanced at him and answered, "He's allergic to a lot of stuff, but with peanuts he'd go into anaphylactic shock. He had a near miss one time."

"Those weren't pranks; he was careless!" the Twins blinked.

Charlie glowered. "Logan may be a little dense, but he's not nearly spastic enough to actually endanger his life—that's Reed's department. No offense," he added to the curly-haired artist, who just waved it away with a shrug.

"We're also not actually trying to kill him or anyone!" Wes responded, blinking. "If anything, you should be asking if someone's out to get him or something!"

Kurt looked up at this, a strange, unwelcome thought passing through his mind. Of course it was ridiculous—it had to be. This wasn't some slasher movie or anything. That kind of thing was just way too unbelievable. Simply because _no one_ could know. No one could _possibly_ know. The only way Kurt even knew anything was because he was told. _Confirmed. _

…_no one_ was trying to actually…_hurt_ Logan…right?

And much less…

…it being someone like a psycho stalker…

…who somehow knew that his object of affection was in to a certain Prefect—

Kurt shook his head. _This is ridiculous. It's Windsor madness. This is not a bad slasher flick. Everything is fine. It's just the madness getting to me. _

"Kurt?" Blaine closed his hand over Kurt's, looking at him. "You okay?"

"Fine," he answered much too quickly, smiling at him. "Just thinking over stuff for Parents Night."

"Exactly," Charlie pointed to him with a nod. "This is _exactly_ what I want to talk to all of you about. I don't even care anymore which of you did it, because I'm pretty sure it's the twins."

Evan and Ethan gave him shocked and hurt expressions but their blue eyes twinkled, giving them both away. Charlie went on. "Our focus has to go back to Parents Night. You all know that considering the stuff Stuart House pulls on us, I'd be the last person to actually stop you. I mean, I was the one who volunteered to find us all the feathers for that last thing we pulled on them." Snickers sounded from the boys. "But it _will_ be Hell Night soon and this is just going to cause us all to lose focus. All of you are Warblers. Shouldn't you be getting ready for performances?"

Dwight coughed loudly. Charlie rolled his eyes. "Fine, all of you are Warblers except Dwight. But you're not out of the fire, here, Houston. You think Howard isn't going to tell your mom about the stuff you've pulled this year?"

"I haven't _pulled_ anything! All that I do is for the safety of the people in this house—I am the reason all of you are not angering malignant supernatural entities left and right here—!" Dwight protested as all the other boys just groaned and threw pillows at him.

Charlie took a deep breath to calm himself and said, "All right. People, I don't care anymore what you have to do. I just want us to get through Hell Night in one piece. Remember last year?"

All the boys winced. Charlie grimaced and nodded. "Yes. Let's not forget the incident with the chandelier, and Howard's car, that big mess with Reed's mother, _David's _mother, _and_ Michelle Wright, and the spectacular incident that had a chunk of the Windsor House budget going to renovations for the fencing hall!"

Kurt looked confused. "What exactly—"

"We don't talk about that anymore," everyone chorused at the same time.

"I never want to see buttercream again for the rest of my _life_," Wes groaned.

"Whatever," Charlie grumbled, pacing in front of them. "Hell Night is a day away. One. _Day_. I don't know about you, but we've already messed up the Valentines' Fair and Ramsey's ready to deliver some serious thunderbolts after this war we've got going with Stuart. Believe me, I am one of the _last_ people to hold you back in that matter, but we're on the red here. Hell Night sucks for everybody. Can we just make it through this one thing without a hitch?"

"Charlie, relax," Blaine replied, staring at him. "We all know that. Everyone knows that. It's going to be all right. _Nothing_ is going to happen. After all the trouble we made last year and all the trouble everyone got into, I don't think anyone would be stupid enough to do something bad with all our parents around."

"Yeah, they'd have to be really crazy to do that…" Dwight snorted.

Everyone turned to look at him. Dwight looked back at them and then shrugged a little. "Well…more than us, I guess."

Charlie sighed and rolled his eyes. "Well…whatever, then. As long as we're all clear on that. Oh man, I hope nothing bad happens this time around. For once. Han?"

"_Yeah?_" the nearby speaker crackled.

"You and Blaine—can you please look out for these clowns for a bit? Prefects are having another meeting."

"_I am not their babysitter!" _the hacker sounded panicked. "_I can't watch them right now! Look, I don't even care that I've been banned from using security cams all over school. Fine, I can deal with that. But I have a __**raid**__ to get to. Do you understand the magnitude of that?"_

"Oh just shut up and do it, Han?" Charlie dragged a hand down his face. "Anyway like I said, there's a meeting. And _assuming_ that Logan hasn't burst a blood vessel with rage with the whole goat prank, I'm expecting him to be there too. Which means that all of the prefects will be unable to keep an eye on you guys and I expect you all to _not kill each other_ while I'm away. Okay?"

The boys just smiled at him. Kurt's hand shot up, waving his fingers in the air, "Excuse me, may I?"

"What is it, Hummel?" Charlie asked.

"If Logan is going to be at this meeting, does that mean that he won't be participating in the Duels this afternoon during Warbler practice, thus removing himself as competition for the rest of us who would like to earn a lead for the Parents' Night performance?"

At that, everyone gave him a look of incredulous surprise. Kurt blinked right back at them. "…what?"

Charlie sighed deeply. "I don't know, Hummel, but I guess he's not."

Well that was one less top Warbler to worry about, Kurt decided. He had always been rather competitive—that was hardly a secret—and Parents' Night called for two solos and a duet. Kurt was going to be one of those soloists no matter what as Burt and Carole would be coming to see him. His only real competition would be the Twins, Blaine and Logan—Reed didn't even want to compete at this point, thus eliminating one of the favorites already. If Logan was out of the running, that left Blaine and the Twins. He and Blaine were still on rocky ground, approval-wise, but in this situation, it's most likely that if they could get away with a lead, it would have to go to one of them if the Twins were given the favor.

Kurt glanced at Blaine. So his boyfriend was also his competition. Blaine grinned a little at him. "I know that look," he said. "It's you sizing up the enemy."

Kurt colored only slightly. "Well it's a huge event and it involves certain important personages—"

"Kurt—relax. I know. You or me, I don't mind. I'm still sticking by you, lead or no lead." Blaine squeezed his hand and didn't look bothered by the idea of Kurt going for the kill in the duels at all. The other boys just rolled their eyes.

"Can you guys stop being so mushy? It hurts the rest of us who are still without a Shakespearean-level romance," Wes complained.

"If I recall, _you_ _guys_ were the ones who were so desperate to get us together," Kurt raised an eyebrow.

"We question our sanities on that matter."

"I question your sanities daily," Charlie grumbled. "All right, you guys? I'm going now. Please, _please_ be good? Just once. Just _once_. Because I swear, if I take the fall for the next thing you guys are going to pull, it's off with your heads. For _real_."

The Twins burst into laughter as Charlie strode off, grumbling. Everyone, the conspirators, and the assorted students in the halls, stared after him for a moment, waiting until they heard the front door open and subsequently close.

A full two seconds of silence happened.

"_Come here, David_!" The Twins finally pounced and David immediately dived out of the couch, ducking Wes' arm. Reed grabbed the back of David's jacket and then crashed to the ground when it slipped from his fingers—Blaine leaped from the couch and tackled David down—who then squirmed out of his grip and raced out of the common room. Dwight yelled and dived down with Kurt, getting out of the crossfire as the boys scrambled to grab David back.

"Get back here!" Wes yelled, chasing him upstairs, the Twins leaping over banisters and going up the stairs two steps at a time.

"Stay away from our room!" Kurt declared imperiously as he followed his boyfriend, David, the Twins, Wes and Dwight up the second floor, Reed struggling to get up and scramble after them.

The other Windsors immediately fled the way as David went charging down the hall. Wes raced ahead of him and threw himself into the doorway of their room, blocking his way. "Oh no you don't—"

"Seriously, David!" Kurt groaned as the bedlam went down the hall—Dwight rushed into his room and disappeared into it, the sounds of at least five locks clicking. "The sooner you just give in, the sooner it'll be over!"

"I told you, I'm not hiding anything!" David yelled. Kurt groaned and walked into his room, Reed following him. Blaine seemed to hesitate for a moment and then followed Kurt into the relative peace of the two fashionistas' dorm room.

"You ready for Parents' Night?" Reed asked casually as he headed to his side of the room. "Your parents are coming, aren't they?"

"Yes, they are…" Kurt smiled.

"Is that the reason you haven't stopped practicing for the past three days?" Reed grinned. "You should take it easy, you don't want to wake up tomorrow morning _without_ a voice—"

"Don't even suggest the possibility, Reed—" Kurt rolled his eyes and looked at Blaine, who was sitting at the couch. "How about your parents? Are we expecting your family?"

"Uh…" Blaine glanced for a moment at Reed, who threw up his hands and flopped onto the bed.

Reed sighed. "Say it, Blaine—my life can function properly with or without Shane Anderson."

"No it can't," the other two chorused, smirking.

"Just because it _hasn't_, doesn't mean it _won't_," Reed protested.

"Shane _is_ coming with mom," Blaine replied, leaning back on the couch and sighing deeply, looking worried. He looked at his hands for a moment, wringing them. "So is my father."

Reed and Kurt looked up. Kurt immediately moved to him, sitting next to him, a little surprised. "So your dad is coming…"

"Yeah…" Blaine nodded. He looked pale and anxious. "He didn't last year. I didn't think he would this year either. He and I…we haven't really _talked_ all that much in the past year but…but I guess since Shane's accident he, uh, probably decided to take the command in my life again."

"Blaine…?" Reed sat up, looking a bit worried. "Does your dad know that you and Kurt are…"

Kurt looked from his friend and then back to Blaine, and found his boyfriend giving him an expression of open apprehension. He felt Blaine's hands tighten on his and Blaine broke eye contact. "They—they know I'm attached. And…dad was quiet. But with him, quiet is hardly a good sign." Blaine suddenly rose and started to pace, exhaling. "That's why they…they wanted to meet you. I told you they wanted to meet you."

Kurt stared at Blaine, waiting—but Blaine just continued pacing the floor. The other boy sighed, impatient. "You have to stop. You're going to drive yourself nuts. I understand that you're worried, but he's not actually going to _stab _me—"

"He threw Micah out of the house _physically_!" Blaine protested.

"He'll be surrounded by quite a few witnesses to assault this time."

"I don't want you anywhere near my father," Blaine answered, distracted as he continued to pace, deep in thought, and possibly various bad images. "My mother, maybe, but if my father even approaches you—"

"I have to meet him sometime, Blaine," Kurt answered, frowning. "And there'll be no choice this time around. I'm not going to spend the night dodging him, just so you know."

"I don't want him to say anything to you or worse: _do_ anything to you! Especially after what happened with Micah!"

Kurt smirked a little. "Believe me, your dad is not running me off."

Clearly, Blaine wasn't convinced. And considering that he knew what his father was like, Kurt couldn't really blame him. He knew that not all kids like him were fortunate enough to have a father like Burt. And Blaine had one that had literally taken to violence when he discovered that his eldest son was gay. Who knew what would happen now that he was going to meet Kurt as the boyfriend?

Or if, for some reason, Shane decided to come out? Kurt didn't put it past Shane (whose obvious philosophy was "over the cliff first, think later") to do anything like that now, _especially _with Micah now present again, and confirmed to have been chased away by their father. That would definitely not improve the mood.

"I can handle this," Kurt told his boyfriend emphatically. When Blaine didn't listen, he frowned. "You said I was meeting your parents, and meet your parents I will. I'm not afraid of them, Blaine, and you shouldn't be either."

Blaine glanced at Kurt, still not looking thoroughly convinced, and Kurt only returned him a look of the same obstinate manner that really made it difficult for anyone to argue against him. When he had set his mind to something, it was very difficult to turn him to something different, if it were even possible at all.

This was, of course, one of the things that Blaine loved him for and could really find no fault with. Blaine sat down on the couch next to him, and Kurt could see that while Blaine still didn't approve, he was willing to give it a try. "All right," the curly-haired Warbler finally said. "But you promise to stick with me, and let me lead the talking."

He reached out and took Kurt's hand. "…I want to face my father too. I want to fight for the right to be with you. All this time, after all the things that happened with me and you and Logan and…" shakes his head. "I'm tired of being at the risk of losing you." He sighed and absently laid his head on Kurt's shoulder. "Can't I just _keep_ you and be happy?"

Kurt smiled a little at him, and turned a little red as Reed giggled from the bed—they had forgotten he was there. He glowered at his little roommate, who just shrugged and gave him a "what, it's my room too!" expression.

The door nearly flew off its hinges as the bedlam outside took possession of the room. Kurt quickly ducked away from the Twins and grabbed his music sheets from the coffee table just as David went leaping over his head, the Twins following suit—Blaine scrambled to keep Kurt down and out of harm's way.

"David!" Wes yelled, diving for him and missing as David back-flipped acrobatically over one of the chairs and sought shelter near Reed's bed—the artist ducked out of the way—before evading the Twins who pounced on him again.

"I said it's nothing! Geez! Come on, get off!" David fought the twins off, clearly very embarrassed.

"We just want to see what you're hiding!" Evan said cheerfully, going around and around David like an over-excitable puppy, the other boy trying to get out of his reach

"The sooner you give in, the sooner this'll all be over!" Ethan told him in an equally cheery tone, grabbing David's arm to keep him still as Wes grabbed the other one.

"Let go!" David protested, panicking as Evan began to search in his pockets.

"Just let them do what they want and they'll leave you alone," Kurt sighed, frustrated at the noise around him as he pored over the music sheets, trying very very hard to pretend that this wasn't happening. It seldom worked, but it was worth a shot. Reed, now standing at Kurt's side of the room, just laughed.

After an instant, Evan crowed success. David cried out as Wes and Ethan wrestled him far away from Evan so he couldn't retrieve it. Ethan shoved David into his best friend, who was now grabbing at David's wrists, before he joined his twin.

"Did you find it?" Blaine grinned, hovering around them. "What is it?"

Evan made a choking noise and his twin made an identical sound, the two of them frozen, staring at something in Evan's palm.

Wes shoved David off and ran to the twins. "Let me see!"

"Give it back!" David yelled.

The tall twins kept their hands up to keep David from possibly reaching what they found, and Reed staring up at it, now looked aghast. "Oh my—"

Kurt rose from the sofa, eyes wide. "Is that—?"

"Give it—!" David leaped up, face dark red, and grabbed the tiny gray box that had been popped open, something twinkling within.

"It's a ring!" the twins screamed, jumping up and down as Blaine and Wes looked absolutely stunned. "The Hatter has a ring!"

Reed materialized at David's elbow, making the other boy jump nearly about a foot. "Does this mean what we think it means?"

"The way all your brains work is questionable so I can't be sure…" David narrowed his eyes.

"Then so we can _all_ be sure," Blaine said loudly, staring at his friend, "…_is_ that an engagement ring, David…?"

David looked down at the ring in his hands, and then to his friends, who all stared at him expectantly. Even Dwight was peering from the doorway, sprayer in hand, eyes narrowed and waiting for confirmation of some kind. Then David's eyes landed on Wes, his best friend, who was looking at him with quiet expectation. Then he looked back down onto the ring and sighed.

"…yes?"

The uproar that rose from this could've blown the ceiling and everyone simply started talking at the same time—mainly asking if he was serious about it, in varying degrees of amusement and incredulity. David winced and gestured for them all to calm down and be quiet.

"Look, you guys—you guys, _calm down_!" he bellowed, glowering at them. "There's nothing wrong with me giving Katherine a ring!"

"This is not _A Walk to Remember!_" Wes pointed out. "You're acting like Katherine might…_go_…at any minute! You shouldn't think like that! She's still got a way to go!"

"You don't know that…" David mumbled.

"I can't believe you're asking her!" Reed exclaimed, beaming down at the ring happily. He seemed to observe it with a practiced eye. "A Harry Winston, David? Really?" He grinned.

"Shh!" David hissed, as though merely talking about it made him panic. "I'm trying to make a decision here."

"You have a ring, you've obviously made one," Kurt raised an eyebrow.

David threw up his hands and flailed around—just narrowly missing Reed—before flopping down onto the couch. "Look. I just—It's a _thought_, okay? Just a thought. I just…I really…" And then he looked up at them with an expression that seemed to wish he could explain. "I really really love her, guys. I really do. I know it sounds silly, and stupid because we're so young but… It doesn't _feel_ like I'm being young and stupid with her. I feel like all I ever want is to wake up next to her every morning for the rest of my life."

Prepared as they were for wild declarations of love coming from overly smitten Windsor House members, they were still surprised by the way David said it: quietly, simply—words that fit only in romantic movies and sappy love letters—said without malice and directly as though stating fact.

The conspirators all looked at each other. The Twins grinned and looked at David, immediately plopping themselves onto the couch on either side of him. "Well you know you can't _actually_ get married…" Evan pointed out.

"But…I suppose a bit of a ceremony…" Ethan conjectured, "in the name of true love and all that…wouldn't hurt, right?"

David looked at them, and then to the other boys, who were now starting to grin. There is a slow build of laughter and cheering in the room and then he found himself being covered in blue blazers, congratulatory, from the people in the room. David heaved a sigh of relief. Sure the idea was crazy, and sure in all likelihood it was still foggy on happening, but knowing that his friends had his back certainly helped.

David lifted his eyes to where Wes stood, and found his best friend nodding to him with a small smile. Wes had been tense and testy as Parents' Night approached. And David wondered why Wes had remained quiet and only ever told him that everything was fine.

It was as though their previous situation had reversed. This was not lost to the other Windsors, who now watched as Wes clapped David on the shoulder in an encouraging gesture, and then then turned around and left the room.

"Wes!" David said, getting up.

"I just have to go talk to someone!" Wes yelled back as he vanished.

"Yeah…" David muttered, watching him go. That was always what he said. "…but you're supposed to be talking to _me_."

Kurt frowned and looked at Blaine, who looked at his two best friends with a perplexed expression. "Well he _has_ been a little distant," Kurt remarked. "Did they fight?"

"Not that I'd know about—Wes hasn't even stuck around long enough to have some kind of argument." Blaine sighed. "He only looked distressed. If you ask me, he should be talking to David if he has a problem, or any of us, but no one in Windsor could account for it, and with Parents' Night coming up…" He only sighed deeply. "I think I've had enough to think about for one day."

And that was when Shane Anderson walked into the room, wearing the uniform of Dalton Academy, and a huge smile on his face.

Every eye in the room widened as they gaped at him in shock, the younger Anderson grinning broadly as he dusted his sleeves off. "Well?" Shane exclaimed, beaming widely. "What do you say? Looks pretty good on me, don't you think?"

"Oh my god…" Kurt dropped his face into his hand and looked at Blaine who was staring at his brother in horror.

"Shane…" the older Anderson said very slowly, hoping it would ask the query on everyone's minds as saying it out loud might foretell the Apocalypse, "…what…did you do."

"Is—is that _yours_?" Reed stammered, staring at him.

"Well…" Shane sighed dramatically with a sigh, "You know I've grown to love this place a whole lot…so much _potential_ here, you know…for a quality education, getting a little socialized, grow emotionally and all that…plus I'm here half the time, and—"

"Shane!" Blaine snapped, staring at him.

"Easy there, White Rabbit, it's not too late," Shane grinned, throwing himself onto the couch and propping his feet on the table—pulling his feet back down as Kurt made to swat at his arm in warning. "I happened to be asked by a nice man named Mr. Harvey and a nice lady named Ms. Medel if I would consider transferring into this school. More to support _you_ of course, you've had it rough these past weeks—"

"Shane!"

"All right!" Shane threw up his hands. "Not yet. But I have the paperwork. I just need the folks to sign off. Which means…"

"One signature and you're a Dalton boy," Blaine exhaled, closing his eyes as though he were trying to accept the magnitude of all this.

"Yes, that's right," Shane smiled.

"And Walcott is just letting you spend all this time away from school?" David snorted.

"Hey, as far as Walcott is concerned, I'm undergoing a serious process of self-searching and rehabilitation," Shane remarked importantly. "And I technically am! I think it's safer for me to be somewhere close to Blaine!"

"Is it safe for _Blaine_ to have _you_ somewhere close?" Kurt raised an eyebrow—to which the younger Anderson flung himself to the older one, engulfing him in a smothering hug.

"But you _love_ me, don't you, Blaine?" Shane whined with a big grin, hugging his brother with enough force to crush a car. "You love me as your adorable little brother and you're going to take really good care of me, right?"

Blaine, who may have been contemplating becoming an only child, now just sighed and said, "Well…the folks still have to sign off on it. Good luck with that. They still love you, after all."

"That's not true, Blaine—I think Mom and Dad may be easing up a little after my whole near-death situation," Shane smiled at his brother. "Hey, maybe they'll even want to meet Kurt!"

At this, both Blaine and Kurt winced as they were reminded of the previous discussion they had. "They _do_ want to see Kurt, Shane…" Blaine told him.

"Don't worry, you two," Shane beamed grandly at the two of them. "I'll be there to totally back you up. It'll be fine! Besides, I figure most of the heat will be going my way."

"What do you mean?" Kurt frowned.

Shane looked at him and then sighed. "With Micah here…I figure…I should talk to dad. I might not get another chance. I'm going to confront him about what he did to him. I can't let him get away with hurting the people most important to us, Blaine—"

"Okay then!" Reed suddenly exclaimed, looking a little flustered and making everyone jump. He was hastily grabbing his things. He didn't really need to hear this, he figured, no one had to hear this, he wasn't even involved anymore. "I'm going to go—I'm going to go—paint or—set up, something." He strapped on his messenger bag and quickly ran past the surprised group.

Almost too predictably, his foot snagged something—the carpet? His own feet? Reed never needed an actual hindrance to be sent sprawling sometimes—and he flew forward with a gasp—

—And found himself in Shane's protective grasp, keeping him from hitting the floor. As usual. Reed's startled brown eyes looked up to a pair of green-gray ones that looked down at him in concern.

Reed wasn't sure if his heart was pounding because of what just happened, or the proximity. His body tensed at Shane's hold.

Shane stared back at him, his eyes with an expression of pleading for a moment, but he only whispered, "Wisely and slow…they stumble that run fast."

And at that, Reed flushed deeply and tore away from Shane, hastily flying out the door before anyone else could utter another word.

Shane could only stare in surprise as Reed fled his presence, and for a moment, he looked rather at a loss of what to do. It couldn't be that he hadn't thought about what it would mean, to transfer to Dalton. It would mean being in closer proximity to Reed. He'd be running into him all the time. But at the state they were in…

But in reference to his words, everyone in the room now demanded in varying degrees of amusement at Shane: "Where did _that_ come from?"

* * *

"Psst! Houston!"

At first Dwight didn't look up, because he didn't recognize the voice that had called his name in such a strange way. He was walking down one of the side paths, headed to the library during a free period later on in the day.

"Dwight!"

When it repeated, he stopped and looked around curiously. There was no sign of anyone in this particular path but him. Blinking, he looked upward. "God?"

"No! It's me! Down here."

At that, Dwight quickly jumped away from the ground he was stepping on, giving the earth a very apprehensive expression, fearful that he might have stepped on a dwarf or worse. "Um…"

"Oh for heavenssakes."

And that was when the blonde girl popped up from the bushes nearby, nearly scaring Dwight half to death as he jumped again. Glowering, the hunter wannabe snapped, "Laura! What are you doing here? I thought Justin sent you to stay in a hotel until he can figure out what to do with you."

"I can't just waste away in some hotel until Parents' Night! There's too much to do around here." Laura Bancroft brushed herself free of leaves and other debris. Then she looked around and gasped. "Quick! Hide!" She grabbed his arm and tugged him down, sending the other boy tumbling into the bushes.

"For the record," Dwight grunted as he scrambled to his hands and knees, "If we get caught like this, I did not touch you, I would never even consider touching you, and it was _your fault_ entirely that we are in a _bush_ at some secluded area of the school!"

"Shut up!" Laura elbowed him sharply, staring at something intently. Dwight glared and tried to see what she was looking at. And he spotted a lone boy walking, coming from the direction of Hanover House, and approaching them. Dwight blinked as recognition dawned on him and he recognized the slim form of Adam Clavell, seemingly empty handed.

"What? We're spying on him now?" Dwight hissed to Laura.

"There's just something wrong with him, I promise you," Laura muttered.

"You're crazy. And if _I'm_ saying that—"

"You can't tell me you didn't notice how _creepy_ he's been this past week! I saw you!"

Dwight grumbled. "Well according to my apparently 'unreliable' senses, he smells like flowers, and some weird metallic smell. That's weird enough for you?"

"Shh—look."

Adam seemed to look around for a moment as though wondering if he'd been followed. The two in the bushes stared, hardly daring to breathe as the boy walked on. When he got closer to them, so close that Dwight was sure that if he extended a hand out the bushes, he would be able to touch him, he saw that his hands were littered with band-aids. He wasn't quite so empty-handed either. In his left hand, he had carefully cupped the head of a rose.

He kept walking. Laura turned to Dwight and would've said something, but Dwight gave her a warning look. He waited until Adam was really out of earshot before Dwight asked her, "What happened to his hands?"

"He plays around with roses a lot. I guess it's the thorns…?"

Dwight rose now and brushed himself off importantly. "Well? Aside from his guy's apparent fascination with flowers, what exactly is wrong with him?"

"I just…" Laura crossed her arms over her chest and grumbled. "It's the way he sneaks around everyone all the time. I heard from the other Hanovers that he doesn't want anyone coming near his room—"

"So he's private. So am I."

"—and then all those roses—"

"With that argument, he might as well be Charlie and his gardening hobby."

"—I don't like him—"

"Well I'm not exactly fond of you either."

"—I don't trust him—"

"I _definitely_ do not trust you."

"—and he's _bleeding_ all the time!"

That piqued Dwight's curiosity. "Pardon?"

Laura sighed. "The other day I saw blood on the front carpet in Hanover. I know what blood looks like, Houston, I've seen Justin make it home enough times all messed up from some gang fight—"

"Whoa, Justin used to be a hoodlum?" Dwight grinned immediately, looking a little impressed. He had usually found the Hanover prefect too straitlaced, but this put things in a different light. "So he _isn't_ that nice all the time?"

"Focus!" Laura nearly yelled, snapping her fingers in front of his eyes. "And it's the way he seems to be really, _really_ into Julian Larson."

Dwight automatically rolled his eyes. He was one of the conspirators, after all. He was a Windsor, and a Legacy Windsor, especially since his Uncle Ford apparently was once a Windsor prefect. He didn't particularly like the Stuarts, especially not the famous actor. "He's a movie star. He's a fan. Julian probably has six million of those."

"He keeps bugging _everyone_ about him!" Laura protested.

"_Everyone_?"Dwight looked doubtful.

"I saw him talking to Kurt," Laura insisted. "He talked to him about Julian. Ask Kurt if he noticed anything remotely creepy about the way he keeps talking about Julian. Go on!"

"Fine, if it makes you feel better, I'll keep an eye on him or something," Dwight sighed as he walked off, heading towards the library again. He really didn't have time for this, there were demons to exterminate, but she was certainly going to keep bugging him until he'd proven that Adam was either innocent or a complete and total psychopath. Sure, he was also getting that creepy vibe from Adam, and if it would make that girl stop freaking out, he'd salt the guy if he had to. But there were far, far more important things to take care of…

Then again…

Dwight immediately dived behind the cover of another bush. He couldn't recall a day when he'd been gladder for all the shrubbery in the school gardens that he had once thought was the school's plot to attract more woodland denizens. He pushed some of the foliage aside to get a good look.

Was that…_Kurt_?

* * *

The Windsor Alice was not pleased. He was definitely not pleased about this. He strode towards the library, looking around to make sure he wasn't being followed. He felt like a spy from the old movies—with the coat and the bag—except far more fashionable in the dress sense. He was wearing Vuitton for heavenssakes.

But that wasn't the problem here. The problem was that he was supposed to be elsewhere right at this moment—possibly headed to Warblers' Hall and maybe getting a bit of rehearsal time in. A star is not made by slacking off especially when the competition is rough. He could be rehearsing his duel piece for the Parents' Night performance—especially after he told Burt and Carole that he was very confident in his chances to get a spot in the lead and they could watch him perform.

But no.

He was on his way to the library—at the beck and call of the only other diva on campus.

"Let's make this clear," Kurt said without introductions the moment Julian appeared like someone who was also feigning as a stereotypical spy, "and I'm saying this because we both know it's a little bit true—we're not _friends_, exactly—in fact you voiced out exactly how much you hated me prior to this."

"I still don't really like you very much, yes," Julian raised an eyebrow.

"Yes, there you have it so why am I here again?" Kurt crossed his arms over his chest.

"You're the only one I can talk to!" Julian shot back.

"You have two supposed best friends!" Kurt retorted. "Both of whom should be far more aware than they currently are about your situation and how bad it's getting!"

Julian glared at him in the way that only a diva could when pressed to the wall. "I can't tell either of them exactly how bad it's getting! Derek already wants to tell a teacher or the cops and as far as I'm concerned, nothing truly bad has happened to me—"

"It won't stay that way for long, Julian!" Kurt shot back. "Believe me, I know. They don't just stay threats; sooner or later, something is going to happen and—"

"Things _have_ already happened," Julian grumbled, sinking down onto the steps of the library with a groan.

Kurt stared at him. "Excuse me?"

"Look there's…there's another reason I don't want to tell Derek or Logan." Julian looked at him, hands shaking slightly. "I think…I think that person knows about me and…Logan."

"There _is_ no you and Logan." Kurt raised an eyebrow—and yet he felt his pulse quicken. He remembered the talk that Charlie had given them earlier. It was starting to come back, that horrible speculation that he told himself that he would not entertain.

"There isn't, thanks for rubbing salt in the wound." Julian glared at him. "But…I just have this feeling that Logan is getting into trouble because of me."

"What do you mean?" Kurt asked, even though he already had his own suspicions.

Julian rolled his eyes and gave him a withering look. "Don't act dumb, Hummel. You and I both know that all of Windsor is celebrating the fact that the Knave has gotten some serious comeuppance in the last few days. Nearly falling off stairs and falling stepladders? Fine, I could chalk that up to the shenanigans of Tweedledum and Tweedledumber over there, but even _I_ know that they wouldn't slip Logan the peanut butter seeing as how it could actually _kill_ him."

Kurt exhaled slowly. "You don't know that. Because…because how would your _stalker_ even know these things? She couldn't possibly know _anything_ about you liking Logan that way! Even if she had some sort of connection into this school—no one but…_me_, and Derek, and you. Which, by the way is ridiculous, because I think Logan should be made party to this information."

Julian just buried his head in his hands, fingers embedded into his brown hair. He couldn't even respond, and Kurt, who was expecting a verbal joust of better magnitude than this, sighed and sat down next to him. "All right. Spill it, you."

"Spill what."

"There's more to this. There's got to be a reason you're freaking out like this."

"There is no reason," Julian grumbled. "The guy I'm desperately in love with is my best friend who happens to currently think of me as lint and he's probably getting targeted by a psycho stalker while I'm sitting here talking to _you_, the object of his single-minded determined affections. Oh yeah, everything is _fantastic_, Hummel, how was your day?"

Kurt smirked a little. "Well, I'm sitting with a famous movie star whose one weakness I've found and he's spilling his heart and soul out to me. I think that makes up for the rest of the day even if it falls down to pieces."

Julian groaned. "And I'm giving you _the_ biggest ego trip ever given by a rival ever."

Kurt cleared his throat and brushed some nonexistent lint from his coat. "I'm not your rival, Julian. If there's anything I've made apparent by now it's that I'm not interested in Logan romantically."

"Doesn't matter." Julian glanced at him directly for the first time. "He loves _you_."

The Windsor Alice turned to look at him with an appraising expression. Kurt knew what it was like to like someone and not say it—but he didn't actually reach a plane where half the concern was that if you said it, the person in question gets shot, or so Julian seems to think. It was in this moment that Kurt remembered that Julian was just a teenage boy, just like everyone else, and the fact that he may have made a few million in the box office didn't actually change that.

Julian hated that weakness, and he made it evident. It didn't stop it from going away.

Kurt sighed and leaned back on the steps a little. "If you think about it…it's really sad that I'm the only person you can talk to like this. Your friends are going to be furious that you didn't come to them."

"You ever thought that maybe it's because I wouldn't mind so much if you got shot for knowing too much?"

Kurt glared at him. Julian just snorted and laughed hollowly. "Yeah, I forgot I shouldn't make jokes like that around you… Logan told us not to crack those around you, for some reason. But seeing as how you seem to empathize with me, I suppose you had your own share of death threats."

Kurt sighed, glancing at the sky. Somehow, it seemed so long ago—and maybe it was because he was in the company of people who swore up and down to look after him. And maybe it was because he talked to Karofsky that night, and made it clear that while they may not be crazy about each other, the other boy wouldn't do him harm. He was, just like everyone else, as confused as they were, struggling to find a spot to fit in and holding on tight when you think you have a grip on something.

Kurt looked at Julian and said, matter-of-factly, "I think Logan has a right to know. If he's your friend like you said he was—he'd want to know. Wouldn't he?"

Julian stared back at him. "Would you take a bullet for Blaine, Kurt?"

"Excuse me?"

Julian stared out into the grounds, silent. After a moment's contemplation, he looked at Kurt again. "Maybe you're right. Maybe this is all in my head. You know, some teenage diva who's read too many action and suspense scripts. Can't tell the difference between a movie and reality. Maybe this is impossible. Nobody could possibly know. But…if there's even a _fraction_ of a chance that I'm right… if there's a chance that I'm right and that someone is tipping my stalker off…" He exhaled. "Logan wouldn't take it lying down. He'd go nuts, he'd get angry, he'd email blast the entire faculty—"

He glanced at Kurt. "He'd try to do something. Keep me away and all that. Because he's that kind of a friend. And then the stalker would know. She'd know what he was doing. And just like that—"

Kurt didn't know why he'd jumped suddenly when Julian snapped his fingers. Maybe it was the way the sound cracked through the stillness they were in, like a sudden gunshot.

"—she'd take him out." His brown eyes stared into Kurt's blue ones with a steely expression. "I know how dangerous these things get. I've had two castmates to whom this happened before. And you know as well as I do that things can reach a boiling point quick. I'm not prepared to let Logan get hurt over me."

At this, Kurt had to admit that he didn't expect this kind of a passionate response from the actor. While in some ways it was also an overreaction on Julian's part, it _was_ rather telling in an important way: "…you really _are_ in love with him, aren't you?"

"If I didn't make that clear enough to you—"

"Not a lot of people can say in all seriousness that they'd take a bullet for someone they liked," Kurt clarified pointedly.

Julian stared at him and then sighed deeply. "…aaaand you think I'm an overreacting idiot."

"No, I think you're not reacting to your _enough_." Kurt rose to his feet. "You're being quiet at the time when you're supposed to _talk_. Get up."

"Why?"

"You need to get this out of your system. Get up." He took Julian by the arm and hauled him to his feet. "When I have a _rival_, or so you call yourself to me and me to you, I like my rivals to be the best. Now come prove it to me, Julian. Be the diva we both know you are?"

The actor gave him a raised eyebrow and let Kurt lead the way.

* * *

Dwight straightened up from the bushes, watching the two walk away. His face was contorted in a mix of emotions that looked confused, disturbed, and clearly trying to work out exactly what he had overheard.

He stared at the two of them walking off.

_Kurt and Julian are friends…?_

_But…they don't actually __**like**__ each other…?_

_They actually __**talk**__…? _

_Julian is in love with Logan who's in love with Kurt who's in love with Blaine?_

_Is he crazy?_

_Well then again, considering Julian in general—_

—_then they'd have to __**all**__ be crazy—_

But of course, there was the major nagging fact:

…_Julian has a stalker…who's getting into campus…_

He stepped back, staring to turn back towards Windsor House, trying to take this all in.

Kurt knows. He knows everything. And he's meeting Julian in secret to talk about it. Julian doesn't want to say anything because whoever's threatening him has some kind of contact in this school. And when unstable people like that are pushed, they can go crazy.

He should know—he had his own issues that led to some unsightly scenarios. Old memories of candles and blood and failed resurrection rituals that landed him more than once in a psychiatrist's couch. All because he was desperately trying to—

Dwight shook his head. Now's not the time to go into dark places that his mind didn't wander to anymore. There was something much more important at stake.

_Is that why Kurt was running out of Windsor the other night? Did he see who that stalker was? Did he have some idea…?_

There was only one way to really find out if anyone or anything was actually out there that night. And much as he hated the idea, even Hunters had to use their connections. The Twins had to be told—because only the Twins had the leverage to get Han involved. Han would know if anyone actually _was_ out there that—

"Hello."

Dwight yelled and nearly jumped a foot into the air. Adam stood there, smiling at him. Dwight clutched at his chest, swinging at him with his other hand. "What the hell's the matter with you? Don't just pop out like that!"

He _was_ of course overlooking the fact that he did roughly the same thing to his friends on a nearly daily basis. But Adam didn't know that. He simply smiled.

"Who are you?" the Hanover boy asked with a perfectly presented smile. "Why are you haunting the bushes?"

Dwight caught himself. This boy wasn't supposed to know him—everything he knew about him was from Laura's ranting and ravings—and so they hadn't even actually _met_. Clearly, this guy didn't know who he was dealing with. So he pulled himself up to his full height and looked at him directly. "I'm Dwight Houston. From Windsor House."

"Oh…" Adam started to smile a little. "I've heard about you."

"Really?" Dwight cracked a grin.

"Yeah, the lunatic in Windsor House who throws salt and holy water everywhere and calls everyone demons."

Dwight winced a little. "Ah…yes, that would be me. And you, Hanover?" he gestured to the badge.

"I'm Adam Clavell," the other boy easily responded. "You know people don't really like it when you snoop on other people's business…" He gave him a direct look.

"What gave you the idea I was snooping?" Dwight retorted. "I happen to have been _hunting_, and there's a difference."

"Not to me." He stepped closer to Dwight, who immediately jumped back. Adam's eyes never left him, as though he were studying him, but he smiled, so it didn't look nearly as startling as when you only looked at his eyes—which unfortunately were what Dwight was focused on. "Julian has a big problem right now and his privacy is very important. He doesn't need people like you prying into his business for their amusement."

Dwight's eyes narrowed as he faced him. "Okay, one, it's not for my amusement. And two…" he gave him a surprised expression. "…you know about Julian's problem?"

"He told me," Adam replied simply. "I'm his friend. Well…not quite his _best_ friend but it's not like he can—"

"—tell his best friends right now, yeah, he said that." Dwight blinked. He uncrossed his arms from his chest. "So…you've known all this time and you're looking after him?"

"I look after Julian in the best way that I can…" Adam admitted, nodding. "I owe him a lot, you know. I have to protect him. I won't let anyone hurt him."

"Oh." Dwight blinked again. _So…is this why he's been acting so funny…? Laura was just jumping the gun, then…?_

"What did you hear?" Adam asked, looking curious.

"Just what you already know, I guess." Dwight shrugged. "I think he should tell someone that he's got a terrible stalker after him. So he could be protected."

"Hmm…" Adam nodded. "I know. But don't worry, I can protect him."

"You and Kurt aren't going to be much help if that psycho flips out."

"So Kurt knows everything too…?" Adam smiled.

Dwight stopped himself. That strange smile really—it just really unsettled him and he didn't know why. He felt like he should be remembering something that Laura said but right now, all he said in response was, "Oh, well—I don't really know. I think they're friends though. Do you think he should tell Kurt so he can help?"

Adam just smiled. "I have it under control. Don't worry."

Dwight smiled back, but it looked more like an uncomfortable grimace. "Well. I have to go. I have hunting to do. None of the people around here have the common decency to look out for the undead and otherworldly beings that could potentially destroy Parents' Night as we know it." And he strolled away in rapid steps.

"Dwight?"

The hunter stopped. He didn't turn around. "What?"

Adam smiled, unseen, behind him. "Don't go blabbing around right now, okay? It'll upset Julian, and that could ruin everything."

"Well…duh. I don't want a panic either. That's ridiculous." Dwight scoffed, meaning to be offhand. And then he walked away quickly. He walked as casually but as quickly as possible. He kept walking and walking, until he passed one of the buildings.

And then, when he was sure he could not be seen, Dwight ran. He bolted towards Windsor House as fast as he possibly could, praying desperately to whoever was listening that he was so very very wrong, and that for once, he _was_ just that lunatic in Windsor House.

* * *

Greg Harvey looked up when Kurt and Julian walked into the room. "Oh. Well hello, Kurt. And…Julian, how nice to see you." He was surprised to find them together, and he couldn't remember Julian ever setting foot into Warblers' Hall in spite of being a talented singer.

"Hello, Mr. Harvey," Kurt beamed at him, walking up to the teacher who was fixing music sheets on top of the piano. "I hope you don't mind if Julian and I have a little practice right now? Would that be all right? I really wanted to get some practice because I like to be in top shape for the duel for today."

"Always above and beyond the call of duty, Kurt." Mr. Harvey smiled. "I take it that you're really gunning for this one…especially after the ban was lifted."

"Oh believe me, Mr. Harvey, I'm going to be a part of that main event tonight," Kurt replied with a smile. "My parents are coming—_all_ our parents are coming, actually. And I'm determined to give them a great performance."

"I don't doubt you will, Kurt," Harvey replied with a smile. "Well—if you manage to compel the boys into giving you the vote—it's yours. We did have that deal." He now looked up at Julian. "And…are you here to join the Warblers, I hope, Mr. Larson? We could use a voice like yours."

Julian pushed up his sunglasses and gave him a smile that looked blissfully fake. "Unfortunately not, Mr. Harvey. Choirs are definitely not my thing. Although Kurt is clearly trying to convert me." He glowered at the other boy, who ignored the withering look from behind the dark glasses.

"So!" Kurt smiled. "Since Julian was having a bit of a terrible day himself, I thought we could both use a little musical therapy."

"Oh?" Mr. Harvey looked at Julian with a surprised expression. "Is something wrong?"

"_Nothing_ is wrong, Kurt exaggerates." Julian glared at the lead singer again. "The way he often does with regards to his talents."

Kurt narrowed his eyes at him, but Harvey just laughed and stepped away from the piano. "Would you mind so much if I listened along? Or do you not want me to hear your piece before the duel, Kurt?"

"That's all right, Mr. Harvey," he replied as he went over to the piano very easily, sitting smoothly onto the bench. "The piece we're doing now isn't my performance piece."

"We?" Julian demanded, but Kurt grabbed him by the sleeve and had him sit down.

"I had the advantage of being able to purge through music and something tells me you haven't made the most of that. You need this," Kurt said firmly, looking at him. "And…maybe Logan could use it from you too…?"

Harvey glanced up from the table at the other side of the room.

Kurt glanced at Julian and started to play the piano carefully. In spite of the fact that the song really hadn't been played on this instrument, Julian recognized it. He'd listened to it enough times himself.

Kurt took a breath and started to sing the first verse.

_I've made up my mind, don't need to think it over_

_If I'm wrong I am right, don't need to look no further_

_This ain't lust, I know this is love…_

He gave Julian a look, and the actor sighs, staring at the keys and took a breath himself. Why the hell not. At this point…what could it hurt? There really wasn't anything else he could hold onto. Maybe he could take a page out of the Warblers' book—the way Blaine, Kurt, and Logan did it.

Logan always said he could feel through music. Maybe Julian did need to do this to understand. He began to sing.

_But if I tell the world, I'll never say enough_

_'Cause it was not said to you_

_And that's exactly what I need to do if I'd end up with you…_

The two of them sang in unison as Kurt's talented fingers drew the music out of the piano, their voices soaring through the Hall.

_Should I give up or should I just keep chasing pavements_

_Even if it leads nowhere?_

_Or would it be a waste even if I knew my place_

_Should I leave it there?_

_Should I give up or should I just keep chasing pavements_

_Even if it leads nowhere?_

Kurt glanced at his unlikely so-called friend and smiled. Julian didn't look up, sighing as he watched Kurt's hands play the piano…seeing someone else's hands. The sight of someone playing the piano was always a specific memory to him. He didn't play himself, but…he had sat next to someone who could enough times.

That someone, sitting in his room at Stuart House, was also absently playing the piano. He felt alone, and numb, and when he did, he ran to the solace of the music that he loved so much. Logan wondered in this distant gray of his mind, if he really stopped singing lead for the Warblers because he was bored…

…or if it was because singing the way he did got too hard.

With Blaine…and Joshua…and now…

Logan glanced to one the photographs tacked on the board over his desk. He didn't have a whole lot, unlike Julian and Derek who almost wallpapered with them, but they counted. He took down the one from one of the Warblers performances. His eyes, as always, flew to Kurt first. They were standing close to each other in this one, and they were both smiling.

Logan smiled faintly to himself and sighed as he sat back down, staring at Kurt's smile. He swore he would stop. He was determined to. It was best for everyone. It would make it easier for Kurt…and for him. Or so it was supposed to be.

He sighed and began to sing.

_I build myself up and fly around in circles_

_Wait then as my heart drops and my back begins to tingle_

_Finally could this be it?_

_Should I give up or should I just keep chasing pavements_

_Even if it leads nowhere?_

_Or would it be a waste even if I knew my place_

_Should I leave it there?_

It was strange how they echoed each other's sentiments, the boy in the room, and the boy sitting at the piano. Kurt continued to play, smiling a little at the boy sitting next to him. He let him take the chorus now, seeing as how he could relate to it better now. He was only mildly aware that Mr. Harvey was listening to them with a curious expression on his face.

Julian didn't notice anything at all as he sang, not knowing that the boy back in the dorm was singing the same thing. Both of them sang, together, but not to each other.

_Should I give up or should I just keep chasing pavements_

_Even if it leads nowhere?_

Julian stared at the keys, watching Kurt's hands move, wondering if one day he'd ever get to sing it to the one he thought of. "_Should I give up or should I just keep chasing pavements, even if it leads nowhere?_"

Logan smiled a little, a hand moving down the photograph, admiring Kurt's laugh in the photograph. "_Or would it be a waste even if I knew my place, should I leave it there?_"

The both of them sang with everything they had—because only in music were they brave enough to dare feel like this, brave enough to say it, because they knew that it was too late to speak those words without the buffer of the music to catch their fall.

"_Should I give up or should I just keep on chasing pavements?" _Julian sang.

Logan lowered the photograph, closing his eyes. _"Should I just keep on chasing pavements…?"_

* * *

Kurt stopped playing when he saw Julian's hand fly up to reach behind the sunglasses—as though to wipe something away. "…Julian?"

"Yeah," the voice didn't even crack. He had such a perfect mask. Julian glanced at him slightly, but it was hard to tell behind the glasses. "What? You stopped?"

Kurt frowned and stared at him. "I had to."

"Yeah well…" Julian got up and brushed himself off. He coughed to clear his throat. "That's—I have to—I have things to do. This was—uh…thanks, Kurt, I guess." He immediately headed for the door as though to be in this place was suffocating.

Kurt sighed, raising his eyes to the ceiling a little. He was running again. He always ran. He heard the door to the Hall slam and he leaned with his elbow onto the piano, pressing his temple onto his knuckles. Mr. Harvey came up to him shortly, smiling faintly. "Hey…want to tell me what that was all about?"

"I would, Mr. Harvey…" Kurt replied as he swept his bag up again, getting to his feet. "But everybody has their secrets. I just had the misfortune to hear about his."

"Ah…" Harvey nodded slowly. He understood that, definitely. He watched Kurt depart towards the doors. "Kurt?"

"Yes sir?" the boy turned to him, blinking.

Harvey walked up to him again. "While I may not know everything that's going on…I know that you're not a popular character to Stuarts. For what it's worth…I'm glad that you're helping him out like this. Not a lot of Windsor boys would. In fact, I'm glad that it seems that you've been changing a lot of these boys, perhaps for the better."

"What do you mean, sir?" Kurt asked, a little surprised and smiling faintly.

"Well…" Harvey sat at the piano now, taking the spot where Kurt previously sat, "…I know that things have definitely not been easy for you. The…eccentricities of the boys in Windsor, getting caught up in the issues of Stuart boys…" he laughed softly. "You really had no obligation to do some of the things you've done. I know Logan is medicating himself by your influence, I know that you're able to mellow out the Twins, you boosted Reed's confidence, you're supporting David and Wes, and most of all, you've…well, you've really bloomed with Blaine. And now you're also helping Julian. You didn't have to do all those things, you were looking to come here and probably live a less…exciting kind of life." Both he and Kurt laughed at that. "But I think you might just be the best thing to happen in this little Wonderland…'Alice'."

So Mr. Harvey knew of the metaphor that's been tossed around school and Windsor. Kurt smiled a little more, pulling up the bag strap. He looked at Mr. Harvey. "Can I be honest, sir?"

"I welcome it."

"When I came here, most of I expected was to be treated like everyone else. To be…considered equal by the others and not ignored or…persecuted for who I am as a person. A chance to be seen for who I am and not my label." Kurt smiled a brief moment. "And then basically just carry on with my plan of becoming a singer and a star. Blaine happened to mention that the Warblers were rockstars." He laughed a little, glancing around the Hall. "I just didn't exactly expect…a little family to go along with it."

Kurt looked at Mr. Harvey. "I imagined I'd be friends with Blaine, but I thought that I was leaving my family behind. From McKinley, I mean. They were family. And it hurt to leave. I wasn't one hundred percent certain that the boys in…this school, all in blazers and their slacks…would really get me as much as they did." He smiled faintly. "I…it turns out I had nothing to worry about."

Mr. Harvey smiled at him, and Kurt laughed a little. "They apparently are far…_far_ worse than I am. And…they go above and beyond the call of duty for each other…including me." Kurt nodded slightly, remembering how they had protected him when they thought Karofsky was a threat, when they gave him the best New Year ever…even from the very beginning, when they took the room of a boy they hardly knew and furnished it entirely to make him feel at home. "…I can't say it's an unwelcome change."

The music teacher smiled at him. "…well, I'm very glad to hear that, Kurt. We're glad you like it here. And we're thankful that you're here for the rest of them too." He laughed slightly. "Heaven knows those boys need someone as level-headed as you to keep them all _marginally _sane."

"Well," Kurt smirked. "As long as _they_ don't drive me crazy too, we'll be all right. I can only help them as much as I—" He stopped, looking out the window.

Mr. Harvey blinked and turned, but he only saw shrubbery from where she sat. He looked back to Kurt. "Kurt?"

Kurt stared out the window. From the tops of the shrubbery flanking the windows, he saw Julian running past, glasses pushed up. And he ran into a boy, one that Kurt recognized immediately. The boy seemed to be asking how he was doing, and then put an arm around Julian to lead him away. Even from this distance he can identify a head of dark hair that had been chemically-fried into blond, and then hastily repaired into a more even blond color.

"Adam…?"

_That guy was just __**everywhere**__…_

Kurt stared for a moment, lost in thought.

"_What are you doing here, fanboy?"_

"_Hello, Kurt. I'm Adam. Can I talk to you for a minute?"_

"Mr. Harvey," Kurt suddenly said, painfully aware that he was about to go into a complete non-sequitur, "Do you know Adam Clavell?"

Harvey stared at him, surprised. "Adam…Clavell?"

"Uh…new boy from…Hanover? Just, figured you'd know him." Kurt shrugged.

"Hanover…" Mr. Harvey looked puzzled. "Huh. Well I did hear that name. I think I heard Danny talking about him. Having been assigned to be his school buddy, I think, because he's being too quiet? I suppose Justin can talk to you about him; he's the prefect. Why the sudden curiosity?"

"Oh he's…he's helping Julian out too. Thanks, Mr. Harvey!" Kurt replied, smiling quickly and hurrying out of the room. "See you later at the duels!" He strode quickly through the doors just as Miss Medel was coming in with a stack of papers. "Hi Miss Medel! Bye, Miss Medel!" was all Kurt said as the flabbergasted music teacher narrowly missed being run over by him.

Medel watched him go, surprised, before bursting into a laugh. "What in the world was that all about?"

"Well Windsor boys hardly slow down." Harvey replied with a smile. "I suppose the boys must have rubbed off on Kurt more than we thought. Let's only hope that some of his composure rubs off on the other boys too."

* * *

Kurt ran towards Windsor, looking over the heads of the other boys to see if he could spot a familiar face. He hoped to spot Charlie—because if he found Charlie, he'd likely find Justin with him. The prefects, with the exception of Logan, tended to stick together and gripe about their stressful lives as both prefects and graduating seniors.

He saw the harassed-looking Windsor prefect walking down one of the paths with a bunch of other seniors who were looking to get away from the madness of the house and get some actual work done. "Charlie!" Kurt called, catching up to him. "Justin!"

The prefects groaned before Kurt even reached him. Charlie stood looking down at the newest Windsor with a frown. "What did the Twins do now? I don't see anything on fire so—"

"No no—Justin?" Kurt asked. "I need to talk to you."

"Well…I was headed back to Hanover House anyway…" Justin glanced at Charlie, who just nodded but looked perplexed at the expression on Kurt's face. "What do you need to talk about?"

Kurt stared at the Hanover prefect, and then glanced at Charlie, who also looked at him expectantly.

There were moments where he really wondered if the madness really was getting to him. For the past few days, he had been back and forth about this issue. It would've been a lot easier if things weren't connecting together. But as the days passed, they just seemed to point more and more to a certain direction that Kurt really wasn't comfortable about looking to. Because that was insane even beyond the bounds of the standard he was now used to. Because there were still so many missing pieces.

There was still a chance he was wrong and everything was just a hallucination.

But then there was that nagging thought that maybe…he was right. And if he was right—this was worth looking into, wasn't it?

He groaned inwardly. Maybe he needed Blaine for this. He needed someone to talk about this with him at this point. Why he was even doing all this for a Stuart—

"Kurt?" Justin prompted.

"I need to talk to you about something private and I understand that Hanover specializes in keeping secrets." Kurt raised an eyebrow at the prefect.

"Whoa, whoa," Charlie frowned, looking down at him. "Hey, if this is serious, I want to be in on this."

"I just need to talk to Justin first." Kurt glanced up to his own prefect. "No offense, Chaz, but you have enough on your plate. I want to make sure of what I'm thinking before I bring it up with you. And besides…" Kurt nodded to the direction of Windsor House, where people outside were starting to look up as though hearing an ominous noise. "…you have something to deal with."

_POW!_

An explosion rocked the house—completely blasting off one of the second floor windows, unmistakably Drew and Satoru's room. The fire alarm went off again and there was a round of applause from everyone in the vicinity. The Twins, who were wandering down below, held up placards that said, "10" as Drew and Satoru came to the balcony, bowing to their audience and waving like beauty queens.

Charlie dragged a hand down his face and Justin laughed, patting his friend's back. "Easy there, Chaz. Stay calm. You need them alive…"

"I'm growing old. I can literally _feel_ myself aging _years_ for _every second _that I remain prefect in that house," Charlie mumbled in a suffering tone. "See you later at the Prefects' Meeting, Justin."

"Come on, Kurt." Justin smiled, nodding to the direction of Hanover House. "Let's leave the carnage to your prefect."

"Spare Blaine, I need him for later," Kurt grinned at Charlie, who was already trudging towards the smoking windows of the House, Drew and Satoru peeking outside with scorched goggles and looking positively delighted at the results of their latest experiment. When they saw Charlie approaching, the Windsors immediately evacuated the area, avoiding his path in fear of dismemberment.

Before Kurt looked away, he saw Dwight looking at him from the window. He gestured desperately for him to come inside, but Kurt didn't understand why. Then Dwight caught sight of the approaching Twins, and seemed to completely forget him, running to them immediately.

* * *

"Whoa! Easy, little Knight!" Evan and Ethan chorused amidst laughter as Charlie continued to scream at Drew at Satoru and threatened to cut off their experiment privileges inside the dorm—what little they had and everything that they weren't _supposed_ to have at all. The sophomore had barreled straight at them the moment they arrived at the staircase of Windsor House.

Dwight stared up at the Twins and said, "I need you to convince Han to let me in—I have to talk to him."

"Ever since you threw salt and holy water all over his servers, Han isn't exactly very generous when it comes to letting you back in his room," Evan said calmly, smirking.

"We don't think he'll be very pleased to let you in again especially after all your claims that he's some sort of alien who needs perpetual contact with his mother ship," Ethan added.

Dwight was clutching at his brows, exasperated and clearly reaching his wits' end. "Fine! Okay, whatever—I'm a freak, I get it!" He exhaled. "But can you please _please_ just do this one thing for me? I need you to please tell Han if he has a video of the front entrance of Stuart House. The night Kurt went out not too long ago. I'm sure he'll know what I mean."

The Twins blinked. "Kurt went out? In the middle of the night? To Stuart?"

"Not really—but it was late." Dwight rubbed his eyes. "You'd know, wouldn't you? You guys were out there that night!"

The Twins looked at each other, and then back at him, completely confused. "We were?"

"Yes!" Dwight replied, looking at them in surprise. "I saw you! Well…one of you. In the art hall that night! You were there—you're the only people who break into places that late into the night."

"I think we'd remember," Evan smiled calmly. "Especially if it was the art hall. We haven't been to the art hall—we don't want to mess with whatever Reed is preparing over there."

"Yes, he doesn't need us being even more hyper when he himself had to redo some of the décor three times after he knocked them over," Ethan smiled the same way.

Dwight stared at them, completely perplexed. "What…? But that's…" He remembered seeing someone in that Art Hall. He really did. Someone had been watching from the windows. Someone with blond hair. How could it not be the Twins—no one could break into—

Dwight shook his head, swallowing hard. "Look, I don't care if you think I'm insane, if you think I'm finally off my rocker."

"_Way_ past that point—" Evan nodded.

"Left _that_ mile marker way back…" Ethan agreed.

"Don't worry though—"

"We passed that marker right with you—"

"We _put_ it there."

"And poured the cement over it."

Dwight flailed at them. "But can you do this for Kurt at least? Don't you _like_ him? I just want to make sure he's all right—I think he could be getting into some kind of trouble."

The Twins stared at Dwight, gazing at him as though trying to gauge him. Even they could tell when something was wrong. Blaine's voice sounded from above. "What's this about Kurt?" he asked, coming down the staircase, his brow furrowed. "We're supposed to practice together, have you seen him—?"

"The Knight is saying something about our little Alice being in trouble," Evan said, glancing to him before looking back at Dwight.

"Wait—Kurt's in trouble?" Blaine stared at him, his eyes immediately expressing great concern and trained on Dwight. "What's going on?"

"How do you know he's in trouble?" asked Ethan, looking at Dwight.

All three Juniors stared down expectantly at that lone Sophomore who was at the foot of the stairs. Dwight stared at them, looking at the concern and borderline fear in Blaine's eyes, and the Twins who seemed a little disbelieving.

Dwight sighed deeply, lowering his eyes…feeling alone. And powerless. "I…I don't know yet. I just have…things going on in my head. I just have this…" and he braced himself, "…this _feeling_—"

The other boys groaned. "Dwight—dude—"

"I know, okay, I know." Dwight sighed. He waved it away, running his hands through his hair, pale in the face and looking a little lost. "I just need you guys to ask about that feed from Han. Indulge me in my madness like everyone else indulges you."

And with that, Dwight trudged away, heading outside, feeling like the boy who'd cried wolf too many times. Which was a really bad situation to be in now that he feels that he's finally scented blood.

Blaine was confused, not used to seeing Dwight this way, and he could tell even the Twins were looking a little disturbed. He looked to the doppelgangers and said, "Do as he says. Ask Han about…whatever he wants you to ask. I'm going to look for Kurt."

The Twins looked at each other again, looking rather confused now, and intrigued. "I think—" Evan began, but Ethan was already nodding. "Yeah, me too—"

The two of them ran quickly upstairs, heading up to the third floor. But they did stop for a moment, but just a moment, to glance to the door where the sound of bickering was coming from, where David and Wes were proving that there was some trouble in paradise.

"I don't understand," David said, looking at his best friend in concern, following him around their room. Wes continued to just fix his schoolbooks. "You have to tell me things, Wes! You can't just walk around brooding—you really think I won't notice?"

"I can't tell you," Wes replied, still not looking at him. "It's just—it's not good for you to know."

"You never acted like this on the other Parents' Nights."

"Because my sisters came during those times." Wes threw his iPod into his bag.

"So this is about your parents?"

"David—stop pressing it, will you?"

David planted himself right in front of his friend, frowning. Wes wasn't leaving the room without an explanation. "No. You're going to tell me."

Wes dropped his bag and sighed in exasperation. "David, geez, for the love of—Look, whatever I'm dealing with right now, clearly you don't need to be a part of it or I would tell you!"

"No you wouldn't! Because I know you, Wes!" David stared at him, searching his face. "I know you! You keep saying I'm the one who never talks when I need help but if you look back on us being friends, you have never yet asked for my help for anything serious other than next period's Physics homework! You always have this way about you where everyone thinks you're okay and nothing is wrong and that you like to help people because you're awesome and you are. But you can't just expect me to watch while you clearly have a problem so big that you don't talk to me."

Wes sighed and turned around, walking back into the room, throwing up his hands. "We can't argue like this—I can't beat you, you've got higher grades in debate."

"Which is why you beat me using sneaky methods!" David protested. "You think I don't know that you talk to Danny about this…thing that you have? You don't even talk to Blaine or Kurt or Reed or the Twins—no, you talk to Danny. Your old Hanover roommate. You had to go all the way to Hanover! Do you realize how horrible that makes me feel especially after you helped me deal with my issues with Katherine?"

"Hanover boys know some things about me that you guys don't." Wes sighed, sitting on his bed and burying his face in his hands.

David stared at him. "Even me? I know everything about you except what your problem is!"

"You…do _not_ know everything about me," Wes replied despondently. "There's one…little thing that you don't exactly know about."

"And that's what bothering you for Parent's Night."

"Yes."

"Then for heavenssake, _tell me_!" David said, throwing his arms open.

"I _can't_!" Wes shot back. "Just let it go, David!" he got up and started digging through music sheets. "There are some things about me you don't get to find out because I'm not quite prepared to see how you'll react to me! I don't want to see the look on your face when you find it out!"

"There is nothing about you that I would ever freak out about, you know that!" David protested. "I didn't freak out when you said that you had a favorite Power Ranger to this day!"

"Hey!" Wes turned crimson. "That was _only_ because you agreed with me that the White Ranger will always and forever be cool!"

"And he is, damn it!"

"Damn straight!"

David flopped down onto the bed, smiling at his friend. "Now will you _please_ tell me what it is that's bothering you? Is it your parents? I've never met your parents, can you believe that? We've been friends going on three years and I've never met your parents. Only your sisters. Just two of them, haven't met the younger two. And your uncles. It's always uncles. Why do you have so many uncles?"

"My family is very tight and they like to look after me." Wes dropped books next to David's head on the bed and sighed. "Look. I can't tell you right now. But I need you to tell me that you're not going to freak out and…start treating me differently when I do tell you."

"Which is when, exactly?" David demanded.

"You'll…you'll get it when you see my parents or…basically the whole gang of them over here tomorrow night," Wes grumbled. "Fussing. Making a big deal of everything. And possibly ready to toast me when they see my report card."

"Hey, don't I always have your back?" David smiled up at Wes, who looked upside-down from where he lay. "Relax. It'll be fine."

Wes stared down at him and sighed. "…we'll see about that."

_I have to go to Hanover House. _

* * *

Kurt had never been to Hanover House before. He had never quite had an errand that would lead him to cross its threshold. As a matter of fact, he didn't know anyone apart from Wes and Charlie who had actually been inside that House. While the Twins regularly spread their havoc on Stuart, Hanover was left well alone. Kurt found himself following Justin past the hedges, the great marble columns and towards the double doors the moment he said to the prefect that he wanted to speak to him about Adam Clavell.

Justin had gotten an odd expression on his face, but he had nodded and said that it was better if they talk indoors.

The Hanover House area was surprisingly quiet, and by far the one with the most aristocratic air among all the Houses Kurt had seen. Not to mention the boys thought highly of their prefect. Each and every single one of them greeted Justin politely as he passed.

"Talk about King of Switzerland…" Kurt muttered as he followed Justin indoors, looking up at the high ceiling. As expected, it was different from Windsor's Tudor old world and Stuart's sophisticated classic—everything in Hanover was neat and white, marble and stone, and Kurt had to say: "Mamoreal?"

Justin laughed. "I see that the Brightmans have influenced you enough. I suppose it's apt…considering they call me the White Queen even though I beg them daily to stop." He led Kurt to a large, airy common room, where the only other occupant was currently ensconced in a cushioned chair, reading a book—and not at all dressed in uniform.

"Wait here," said Justin. "I need to get Spencer and Danny." He went out of the room, and Kurt looked around at the surroundings. Hanover had an otherworldly serenity that he almost found alarming when placed in sharp contrast of Windsor's energy—everything looked neat, elegant, and peaceful.

"Oh hello."

Kurt looked up as the other person in the room addressed him. And to his surprised, he saw a tanned young woman sitting there, her warm brown eyes looking up at him, brown hair falling in waves over her shoulders. She was dressed simply, in brown slacks and a soft pale blue sweater. Kurt was surprised—he thought only Windsor broke the no-girls rule.

"Hi," she said, getting up. "Merril Portman. You must be Kurt. Hear a lot about you. Amazing voice."

"Well…" Kurt smiled, preening a little and shaking hands with her—she was rather tall and looked a little too thin for her size, but she had a kind smile. "Are you here visiting your brother or something?"

"Me?" Merril blinked. "Oh no, I'm not. I stay here. See?" And she tugged at her sweater, where a Hanover pin rested.

"Oh." Kurt stared in complete surprise. "But isn't this a—" He caught himself at once. And he stared—at this tall, pretty girl who was a little too thin, with barely a figure, and what must've been an Adam's apple under the turtleneck. He was still holding Merril's hand, and she was staring at him as he continued to stare right back. "Oh…so you're…"

Slowly, Merril began to smile. "…yes."

Kurt turned a little red. "Oh, I—I'm sorry, I thought you were—"

"Oh you are so sweet, you really think I look like a girl?" Merril beamed at him, looking a little touched. "I must say, that's very flattering. I don't often get thought of as one when I'm in pants."

Kurt stared at her. A transgender person was in this school. A male-to-female. And she looked…rather happy to be here. "Um…so what year are you in?"

"I'm a Junior, like you. I've been here since I was a freshman." Merril smiled. "Don't be too puzzled about not seeing me around. You have, you probably just didn't notice. I blend in with the rest of the blazer boys."

Justin returned at that moment with Danny next to him. "Oh hey Kurt!" Danny smiled.

"I see you've met Merril," Justin smiled. "Merril, do you have any idea where your boyfriend might've secreted himself into?"

Merril sighed but looked amused. "I'll try calling Spencer, but I think he might be in the library attempting to catch up to the heinous senior workload."

Kurt raised his eyebrows and followed Justin out of the common room, with Danny smiling next to him. Kurt glanced back to where Merril walked off to and looked back to the prefect. "So…she really is—"

"A she," Justin said simply. "Merril is a girl. She has one of the highest GPAs in Hanover House, and as far as the rest of this house and majority of the school is concerned, she is a girl. She's been petitioning to be transferred to the sister school, Dobry Hall. She'd be…the first transgendered person to achieve such a thing."

"She sounds incredibly capable," Kurt stared.

"She is," Danny laughed. "She's like our mother around here."

Justin now looked to Kurt and said, "You wanted to talk about Clavell."

"Yes," Kurt replied, feeling a little worried. "Haven't you noticed anything strange about him?"

"Like what?" asked Justin, carefully studying him.

"Well…" Kurt hesitated for a moment, trying to get his thoughts together. "I need to know that what we talk about will not leave this room. It's really important because I was told this in confidence by someone whose privacy is already compromised half the time."

"Let me guess. Julian Larson?" Danny asked.

"How did you—"

"If you want to get Adam to talk, you usually have to start with Something Damaged, that TV show, which then segues into Julian Larson and how apparently he can do no wrong," Danny smiled faintly as he sat next to Kurt. "He's Adam's hero or so it looks like it. Which I find a little weird, considering how close they are right now."

"Laura hasn't stopped trying to warn me about him," Justin sighed. "She's still snooping around school, but she's thoroughly convinced that Adam is up to something."

"Like…what…?" Kurt asked carefully, hands growing a little cold.

"She wouldn't say. I guess she has nothing concrete. That's what she does; she likes to think she's a little Sherlock Holmes." Justin rolled his eyes, but felt a little curious that a Windsor should come speak to him about a Stuart. "But in all accounts Adam looks perfectly ordinary, if not a little reclusive. She hasn't really made sense about it, so I hoped you would clear something up. Did you find out anything? Did Julian say he was bothering him?"

"Julian hasn't said anything. I just… hear me out for a bit." Kurt let out his breath and hoped this didn't sound as crazy as he thought it did.

* * *

The final preparations for Parents Night were being prepared late that afternoon in Dalton Academy. Clubs everywhere were active, making sure that everything they were to present or to display were in order and worthy of their critical parents.

The Warblers had yet to convene—many of them had to help their own Houses first in preparing for the big night. Kurt leaned over the piano again, but he wasn't playing it. Wes had come to Hanover House just as the meeting ended and found him there. It looked like more than one person came to Hanover to find a little clarity. Wes and Danny walked with him as far as the music room, but the two departed elsewhere, with Wes looking anxious to talk to Danny.

Leaving Kurt by himself, trying to get his thoughts calmer in the music room. The sheet music was resting on the stand untouched. He was trying to take deep breaths.

He had this terrible feeling. He couldn't explain it.

A warm form sat next to him and embraced him gently. "Hey. I was looking for you everywhere."

Kurt smiled faintly, only raising his eyes. "Hi, Blaine."

"What are you doing here by yourself?" his boyfriend asked, resting a chin on his shoulder and looking at him.

"Just…thinking."

"_I'm Adam. Can I talk to you for a minute?"_

It was really strange to know that what you were thinking seemed ridiculous. And at the same time to be tugged by the sickening, unmistakable feeling that you were treading a thin line.

"_He's quiet, that boy. But…he really doesn't seem to be doing any harm. Maybe you're right…he's being protective over Julian because he's being a fan."_

There was a feeling, they said, that people get sometimes when something bad was going to happen. He had never quite felt it before—a lot of bad things blindside him. Or maybe it was because he was determined to keep moving forward, catastrophe or no catastrophe. Or maybe things were the way they were supposed to be.

"_Sure. Yeah, what did you want to talk about?"_

"_What…exactly…did Julian tell you?"_

"Kurt?" Blaine asked.

"You know…there's this scene in Romeo and Juliet where…Romeo takes pause and says that he had this feeling or this…ominous sense," Kurt replied. "…I have that feeling."

Blaine stared, squeezing his hands and staring into his eyes. "Is there something wrong, Kurt? Because…you're not the only one acting strange. I really think I should know."

Kurt stared at their hands.

"_It would be an invasion of privacy to search his room, you know. And…there are just some people who are quiet. We can't judge him solely on that."_

"Kurt…?"

"I don't know what it is." Kurt looked at him, blinking. "I just have this feeling. I guess maybe…all the stress is getting to me. Preparations…the performance…having to sing for everyone…meeting your family…"

Blaine immediately pulled him close into a tight embrace. "Listen…if this is about my dad…"

Kurt closed his eyes.

"_I'm his friend. You can tell me. I already know that he has a stalker. Is he all right?"_

"_No. He's not all right."_

"Maybe it is. And other things." Kurt shook his head. "Stress. Is getting to me, that's all. Making me think of things. Maybe I'm just a little tired."

"You've gone a long way down the rabbit hole, Alice," Blaine smiled a little, looking at him affectionately. "Do you remember when we just started?"

Kurt smirked a little. "You mean, when I first saw you late for a very important date…? Or when I really fell down here with all the rest of you?"

"_I won't disregard this, still. I'll…try and see if I can distance Adam from Julian for the moment. It might be good for him to go for new things. Will that help, Kurt?"_

"_Yeah. I think that would work…thanks, Justin."_

Blaine laughed softly. "A little of both." He looked at Kurt's hands, then at his face, and his eyes. And then he smiled. "I think we've come a little too far for me to lose you to anyone. Or anything." Blaine tilted his head a little, leaning a bit closer. "…let me be here to help. Tell me when you're having trouble. If it's about my dad, or something else. I don't want to run again like I did before." He smiled a little. "I want to be here with you."

Kurt smiled at him, squeezing his hands a little. Blaine's hands felt warm and supportive—and an endless comfort. He warmed immediately. It felt as though the cold things he was thinking of earlier seemed to be so far away. Besides—Justin said he would handle it.

"Tell me what's wrong?" Blaine asked, smiling faintly.

"No it's…" Kurt laughed a little. Maybe the Hanover boys were right. He was just looking too far into this. Everything was fine. It was all fine—and this was _not_ supposed to be what he was focused on. He didn't have to make a big deal out of this. He had a lead to win, and a performance to do. It was time to focus on the game.

"I think my stress is causing my normally vivid imagination to go on a hyperdrive. Which is terrible, you realize—stress can't be good for my complexion." He rolled his eyes.

Blaine laughed. "You, with the intense skin regime? I seriously doubt that." Kurt laughed and Blaine smiled at him. "So!" the curly-haired Warbler said, "What did you have in mind for the duel?"

Kurt groaned. "There are so many songs I wanted to try. I've been back and forth with them over and over. All of them work."

"Very confident on your chances, I see," Blaine grinned.

"I don't see a reason why I shouldn't be," Kurt replied, smiling.

"Ah, then maybe I should shake my competition a little," Blaine laughed. He moved up to the keys and prepared to play. "Something…to kill that dreary mood we had earlier. I do rather like seeing you smile." He winked at him.

Kurt flushed a little and pushed him lightly, but he sat closer to him. "Is this what you're singing for the duels?"

"It might be…" Blaine grinned as he began to play. "Want to help me out a little in the chorus?"

"Mm…" Kurt gave him an amused albeit mistrustful glance. "I remember the last time you had to 'involve' me in one of your duel songs. We'll see."

Blaine laughed and continued playing, a light tone on the keys, clearly urging some happiness towards Kurt, and began to sing,

_You're better than the best;_

_I'm lucky just to linger in your light—_

_Cooler than the flip side of my pillow, that's right…_

Blaine nudged him, and Kurt started to grin a little, rolling his eyes again and shaking his head at his boyfriend's incorrigibly optimistic song choices. Blaine grinned and continued, moving a little to the music.

_Completely unaware,_

_Nothing can compare to where you send me—_

_Lets me know that it's okay…_

_Yeah, it's okay, and the moments where my good times start to fade…_

Blaine nudged Kurt again with a very hopeful look on his face, and Kurt laughed a little, nodding slightly as he joined Blaine for the chorus.

_You make me smile like the sun, fall out of bed,_

_Sing like bird, dizzy in my head,_

_Spin like a record, crazy on a Sunday night—_

_You make me dance like a fool, forget how to breathe,_

_Shine like gold, buzz like a bee,_

_Just the thought of you can drive me wild—_

_Oh, you make me smile…_

The way Blaine smiled and just lit up around him was enough—Kurt found himself laughing, smiling next to him. How Blaine managed to make him smile and pull him out of the dark, he wouldn't know. But he did know that it was wonderful.

And as for Blaine, he saw Kurt smile again. And almost always, that was all he really needed. He had loved that smile the moment he saw it, and he didn't know what he had to do to keep Kurt smiling beautifully, but whatever it was—he would do it.

Blaine grinned at him, pulling Kurt off of the bench and sweeping him into his arms in a dance, twirling around each other—hands clasped as they sang to each other.

_Don't know how I lived without you_

_'Cause every time that I get around you—_

_I see the best of me inside your eyes…_

_You make me smile…_

Kurt groaned a little at Blaine's exuberance—that energy that really just compelled him to be a little brighter, happier, the way people in love were—and just smiled, Blaine grinning back at him, pulling him closer.

_You make me dance like a fool, forget how to breathe,_

_Shine like gold, buzz like a bee_

_Just the thought of you can drive me wild…_

Blaine rapidly stole a kiss. Kurt, a little stunned, gaped at him for a moment and then pushed him off, not entirely displeased, as his boyfriend burst into laughter, chasing him around the room.

_You make me smile like the sun, fall out of bed,_

_Sing like bird, dizzy in my head,_

_Spin like a record, crazy on a Sunday night—_

_You make me dance like a fool, forget how to breathe,_

_Shine like gold, buzz like a bee,_

_Just the thought of you can drive me wild—_

_Oh, you make me smile…_

Kurt ended up around the piano just as Blaine slid back onto the bench, singing up to him and smiling brightly. Giving in, Kurt smirked and sat back next to him.

_Oh, you make me smile…_

_Oh, you make me smile…_

As the song trailed off, Blaine looked at Kurt with that grin of his—so infectious that Kurt couldn't help it. He leaned forward and gave him a kiss, squeezing his hands.

"…thanks."

"Hey…anytime." Blaine smiled back at him, squeezing his hands in return, and leaning in for another kiss just as the doors opened and the rest of the Warblers came in, all chattering and oblivious.

"All right, boys!" Mr. Harvey said, clapping his hands for attention. Kurt and Blaine fled the piano bench to head for the seats as Miss Medel reached the piano with the music sheets. "Let's not waste any time. We've got a long practice ahead of us."

Kurt and Blaine did not unlink their hands.

It felt like everything was going to be all right.

* * *

(_Midnight. The morning of Hell Night.)_

Adam stood in the silence, in the darkness. He stared up at the photographs, lit only by the flickering of the candles. Beyond the windows, he could hear the rumble of a sound that seemed akin to a shuttle launch. The Windsor party must be in full swing. Everyone would be busy having fun there…all relaxed and enjoying themselves.

Leaving Adam to make his preparations.

"_What…what are you talking about?_"_ Adam stared at Justin, Danny, and Spencer, who had sat him down at the common room. "I…"_

"_Look, take it easy," Justin said with a smile. "We know you really like hanging around with Julian. And we're really glad that you're making friends on campus."_

"_Yeah, you've been awfully alone," Spencer said. "We don't __want anyone feeling like they're not wanted, okay? We just decided that it could be better if you had someone with you more often. Help you get more socialized?"_

A hundred photographs? Two hundred? More?

They wallpapered everything—from floor, almost to the ceiling. All the same face. The smell of roses was heady in thick night air that fought to be cold from the outside, and warm inside because of all the candles.

Adam's hand shook slightly.

"_We think it's great that you're close to Julian, you really do seem to like him," said Danny. "But you can talk to us too. We're here for you too."_

They were jealous, weren't they?

They can't stand the fact that he was spending so much time with the one boy a million girls would kill to be looked at by. That dear perfection that no one truly knew. But it didn't matter to Adam if Julian was a star or a student. There was so much more to him than that. He outshone everyone else even when he tried to be normal. That brightness was what Adam wanted to keep pure.

If they knew what Adam knew—if they saw him the way he did—they would never take him away from Julian.

Adam was the only one who really knew him and understood him. Because Julian spoke only to him. Trusted him. Loved him.

They were in love and he knew it. He knew it the moment he grabbed his hand at the fair. That everything he knew was right—Julian Larson was in love with him. And he'd been calling out to him all this time. He was the one Adam had looked for all this time. And Julian had been looking for him too.

Now that they were together, Adam wasn't going to let anything and anyone stand between them.

"_So we've decided that you need a roommate, for starters," Justin said. When the prefect spoke, his word was law in Hanover. Adam would have no doubts whatsoever that if Justin mandated it, it would happen. "Danny says he'd be glad to room with you and help out."_

"_Yeah," Danny smiled. "It'll be fun. Don't worry, I won't get in your way."_

Of course he wouldn't. He couldn't. And he shouldn't.

But they were already trying to be in the way.

Adam picked up a letter—one of the many he'd already sent. If the Hanovers tried to keep him corralled, that would mean leaving Julian alone to fend for himself. Alone with all the people who couldn't be bothered to notice how much he was hurting. How much he needed someone. How behind that beautiful mask of strength, he was so fragile.

So very breakable.

A stem of a rose snapped in his hands. Thorns bit flesh.

Red liquid dripped down.

"_Adam?"_

"_Oh." The boy looked up and smiled. "Yes, I understand. Um…" he looked at them curiously. "Can I ask… why are you suddenly doing this?"_

_The boys looked at each other. And then Spencer said, "Well dude…more than one person pointed you out to us. We were starting to think that maybe you need a little more support from us, you know?"_

"_Yes," Justin nodded. "There are some people worried about you."_

So.

Someone had told the Hanovers.

Adam closed his eyes, seeing the rose red flickering of the candles behind his closed lids. It was a really good thing that the list was a fairly short one. He was almost certain that everyone else found him universally unimpressive and uninteresting—so only those people could've possibly said something about him to the Hanovers.

That freak boy in the coat who kept snooping around. Dwight. He overheard everything.

The diva in Windsor who was so jealous of the fact that Julian outshone him. Kurt. He _knows_ everything.

The brat girl who does nothing but whine and make a nuisance of herself. Laura. She never did learn how to mind her own business.

The arrogant jock who wanted to keep Julian for his own. Derek. The way he looked at Adam was of disgust—so reminiscent of old days—

…and the great hindrance himself, the one who just _simply will not get out of the way…_the one who kept hurting Julian again and again and again—Logan. Who doesn't deserve Julian. Who is breaking him slowly here in what should be his sanctuary from the fakeness of the lights and the screaming fans.

"_Is that all right with you, Adam?" Justin asked patiently. "Danny can move in as soon as Parent's Night is over."_

Time was running out. The net was closing in. Maybe one of them told—maybe all of them told. They all were conspiring against him, that was clear now. He should have been more careful. He should've looked after himself more. But he couldn't help it—everything was for Julian's sake. Adam didn't care about his own welfare—everything that mattered in this world was that boy in the photographs who laughed, smiled, and wept.

Unlike the rest of them. Hideous, contorted with their own darkness. Look at them—with all their fake expressions of kindness. Hanovers pretend to care, but they couldn't even see past the surface. What a farce. He knew all about that House—of the secrets in it. Everyone tried to pretend they were better than everyone else.

And all the rest of them in the school that were trying to keep him away. And now they were trying to stop him. All of them. All of them were trying to keep Julian miserable because they were all miserable and they need to defile something pure. And he couldn't let that happen.

Blood will be shed.

Adam leaned forward and placed a kiss on a photograph almost reverently before shakily running his fingers over it. _I profane with this unworthiest hand…_

_Adam smiled._

"_Of course it is."_

From where he stood, he could hear the muffled throb of music in the distant Windsor House party that was ongoing. Two of the people—at _least _two—of his problems were in that house. And they weren't really going to stop until Adam was out of the picture. But _he _was the one who belonged here, and not them.

It was time to act. Remove them from the equation before they become a problem. One by one. Anyone who gets in the way. Anyone who tried to stop him. The game was over. It was time to declare a winner.

They knew that Julian looked at him with love. They knew that Julian relied so much on him. They were going to cut Adam off before Julian really fell into his hands.

Well…

Adam raised the gleaming instrument into the flickering candlelight.

He would just have to cut them before they did it to him.

_"Justin, I'm serious, I'm trying to make dinner—where did that big knife go?" _

_"I hardly cook, Merril, I don't know!"_

He almost laughed when he heard that last night, as he was going up the stairs to his room to fume about how the hell he was supposed to get anything done now that they assigned Danny to shadow him. Danny—the one who tries so hard. The one with the big secret. The one with the scars on his wrists from repeated self harm. The one who "tries to help everyone". The one who thinks he can control what Adam has planned. One of Justin's many, many suckups.

There was no time left. If he wanted to act, he had to do it now. He had to take Julian away from them while he could. No matter who they were or what they did—if they were in the way of the future that he'd planned for himself and Julian, they had to be put away.

Everyone really underestimated Adam. They don't know what he's capable of. They don't know what he does when he's pushed. They don't know what happens when they try and destroy his dreams.

_Their_ dreams, Adam thought almost happily as he looked up at the smiling face in all the photographs. Him and Julian.

_We'll be happy soon, Julian. You'll smile again. We'll be so so happy._

One last present for Julian. And a little something for the Stuart prefect who did nothing but crush him. Adam felt rage grow, remembering what Kurt and Julian had spoken about—the conversations he'd overheard and how all his instincts had pointed him to the right direction.

When he had cornered the other diva, Kurt wouldn't say a word to him and he had not pushed for answers, but he knew. He didn't need it said to him by anyone. He just knew without a shadow of a doubt that Julian loved his heartless best friend. He was being hypnotized by him. His attention towards Logan was going to blind Julian from realizing his obvious love for Adam.

_Well then, "best friend"… You should have one last present too. Hopefully this time, it works._

Adam blew out the candles. Time was up.

Everything was ready.

* * *

**Episode 26 (Part Two)**

**Hell Night**

* * *

**As a disclaimer: **_The drug mentioned in the song the Warblers are singing is not what Logan has ingested that's causing the hallucination. I'm aware of the effects of the drug in the song, and they do not match the symptoms Logan is displaying._

_Again, I hope you enjoy this episode._

* * *

_(Morning, Hell Night.)_

Contrary to Charlie's expectations of complete and utter pandemonium that would lay waste to all the boys in Windsor and Hanover (Stuart was prudently not invited as there could've been bloodshed between the two warring Houses), all the boys managed to hold back and retreated to their beds a little past one in the morning. The conspirators never made it upstairs—they lay like so many casualties amidst party debris in the common room, draped all over each other.

It was approximately seven am in the morning when Charlie stood over his dominion, glowered at the group of boys snoring in the common room, took out two air horns and—

"_Aaaaaaaaaaaah!_"

"All right!" Charlie barked, clapping his hands. "Up! Everyone up! Now! Today's the day where we all face the music—let's get this cleaned up! Everyone! Move!" He sounded the air horns again and Reed scuttled behind the couch and dragged a couch pillow over his head.

"Chaz you're going to ruin our perfect pitch hearing and the Warblers will die!" Wes yelled over the din as the boys groaned.

"_Charlie, god!_" Kurt snapped from the couch, suddenly popping up. "_Cut it out, we're awake! Are you out of you mind? We're not animals! Turn the horns off!"_

Instant silence.

Charlie stared in amazement at the Junior who just realized that he'd fallen asleep on the couch and was _still_ in his clothes from night before and had completely overlooked his skin care regime. Clearly, the day was not starting out well for the diva, who was now looking at himself in horror and disgust.

The Twins immediately fled to get coffee as Reed cautiously shrank away from Kurt. Blaine slept on, completely unconscious.

"How…can he _sleep_ through that…?" David demanded, staring at their friend.

Kurt looked down at his boyfriend, who was curled up at a very large bean bag chair just by the couch where he lay, and shook him. "Blaine? Blaine." He shook him harder.

Blaine groaned, disoriented, and rolled over—and slammed to the ground with a thud that made everyone, including his boyfriend, wince. "I'm okay!" he said, dusting himself off as he sat up. "I'm awake now."

"Better be…" Charlie grumbled. "All of you get up! Clean this up! You two—" he said to the Twins who just ran in each with three mugs in each hand, all of them nearly shoved to Kurt, who gave them a glare that questioned their sanities, "—I don't want to even _hear_ of you two pulling _anything_ today, understand?"

And he turned heel and went out of the room. They could hear him blasting the air horns upstairs, waking all the other boys up. Kurt shook his head, rolling his eyes. This wasn't a good way to start the morning.

Blaine blinked. "…what did he say?"

Wes looked at his friend in confusion. "He was standing right there, you didn't hear him?"

Blaine stared at Wes. "Your lips are moving but I don't hear…anything. Other than me."

Everyone stared. Dwight narrowed his eyes suspiciously and cautiously raised a water sprayer. Kurt shot him a warning look, and then spotted the Twins smiling angelically.

Which was never a good sign.

Kurt immediately grabbed Blaine and looked up over, and then saw something odd. Frowning and looking a little bit disgusted, he said, "…what is—?" He prodded a finger into the pink stuff in Blaine's ear and jerked back in horror when it stretched out.

"You stuffed _bubblegum_ in his ears while he was _asleep_?" Reed cried as Wes and David collapsed into hysterical laughter as Kurt frantically tried to remove the stuff from his fingers and Blaine tried to clear out his ears.

The Twins whooped with joy at their first prank of the day—single-mindedly determined to be a part of the most memorable Parents' Night ever. David got up, shaking his head, still laughing. "Those two are going to be trouble."

"Can you blame them? They won the duet," Blaine successfully brought one ear back to the hearing world.

"And like there was anyone who can beat you and Kurt? Especially since Reed backed out and Logan not present in the duel?" Wes grinned, clapping his hands on Kurt and Blaine's shoulders.

Reed just sighed and shook his head. "Even if I fought for the part, there was no way I was beating Kurt after he sang that song from Bare. Even _I_ totally cried!" He laughed.

Kurt smirked at his best friend before looking back at Blaine, who had successfully cleared out his ears. "You all right?"

"Yeah," Blaine grinned. "I'm used to the Twins." He looked to the others. "Well guys, the day's finally here. Let's make the most of it before the parentals get here, yeah?"

Wes seemed to sigh and nodded. "Yep, I got it."

"Let's go!" David nodded.

"I'm gonna go get ready, then," Reed smiled, heading upstairs. "Blaine, could you please tell Mr. Harvey and Miss Medel that—"

"No, I'm guessing they know where a lot of your efforts are going, Reed," Blaine smiled as the little artist grinned. "Miss Medel goes to see your exhibit every year, after all." He now looked to his boyfriend. "So we're singing lead. You want to go get ready?"

Kurt just smiled patiently at his boyfriend. "Blaine? I am _not_ going anywhere in this state." He gestured with mild disgust at his slept in state. Blaine laughed and nodded, squeezing his hands. "All right, then—let's go get ready to head out to the Warblers."

Kurt smiled as his boyfriend grabbed his hand in the way that he was so used to and towed him out of the common room. The morning of Hell Night brought with it a sense of finality—whatever happens will happen. There's no turning back now and that was how it really felt for everyone. Kurt realized that the terrible feeling he'd had before had been pushed down by it. The new morning brought a fresh sense of safety with it.

Maybe he _had _been worrying over nothing. There were bigger things to deal with, like the fact that he was about to have what must be a showdown with Blaine's father, and the difficult situation that he was going to make tonight. He didn't put it past the Anderson patriarch to not make a scene—if he was anything like Logan's father, there was going to be trouble for sure. As he stared at Blaine, he wondered if it would be a wise idea to tell him about it now that there was apparently nothing to worry about. Maybe he'll find it funny, or maybe he'll say something that would ease his mind about it.

Finally, Kurt decided against it for the time being. He could feel by the clasp of Blaine's hands that he was still worried about him. He knew his boyfriend still wasn't thrilled about Kurt having to meet his homophobic father. He'd have to have visions of flying into a glass and wood gun case, and he'd feel afraid that whatever happened to Micah Randall would reenact itself tonight.

Kurt set his mouth to a firm line. No, he wouldn't tell Blaine right now. He had to focus on delivering an excellent performance first, and deal with Mr. Anderson if things came to a head. He'll worry about Julian and stalker issues later.

Besides…with all the people around tonight, no one would be able to do anything.

* * *

Windsor House was jumping with preparation—all the boys making a whole lot of noise as they struggled to get everything ready. While Charlie tried to tell Drew and Satoru that _no_, he didn't care how "cool" they think it would be, he wanted to make it absolutely clear that no one was to be allowed to get into that TARDIS that they had apparently invented and then have it switched on. Whether it worked or spontaneously combusted, he was not interested in finding out.

While he was debating on allowing the Sonic Screwdriver, the Twins passed by behind him with armfuls of flowers that no one quite saw the purpose for just yet. They made a direct line to Dwight's room, and as they approached, they could hear music. Puzzled, they slowed their walk, creeping stealthily to listen at the slightly open door and realized that _Eye of the Tiger_ was blasting in there.

And, of course, there Dwight was, under the mistaken impression that no one would see, hear, or really be bothered enough to look—as he rocked out to it while lip-synching the song.

The Twins watched in puzzled amusement as Dwight cut loose on his bead, grooving exuberantly to the music and playing air guitar with his leg like the best of them.

He was obviously oblivious as the music raged on, even when the Twins finally opened the door, watching him in deep amusement as they leaned by the doorway. They let him bounce around a little longer until they both decided to put him out of misery and cleared their throats.

Dwight froze mid jump with wide eyes and fell off his bed with a crash.

"So…we were wondering…" Evan said nonchalantly, as though he ruined people's lives on a daily basis by exposing their personal eccentricities that involved ancient rock bands and pop culture phenomenon, "Why do you have to lip-synch?"

"It's not like we don't already know that your pipes aren't all that bad at all," Ethan agreed, nodding. "This isn't the first time you've done this, right?"

"Will you just shut—!" All red in the face, Dwight got up and glared at them, weapons aimed. "What do you want? And don't you dare cross that salt line!" he yelled as Ethan's toes rested just behind the thick helping of salt on the doorway of his room.

Evan grinned. "Are you sure you don't want to treat the rest of the dorm to your performance? Because really—"

"_I will count to ten and I will __**shoot**__ if you don't tell me what you're here for right now!_"

"There's a talking flower waiting for you downstairs," both Twins chorused happily.

Dwight sighed and lowered his water sprayer. "Why can't you just say that there's a girl waiting for me downstairs?" And he grabbed his coat and pushed past the two of them as he went on outside.

"Wait wait!" The Twins happily pursued him as he hurried down the hall. "Why is little Bancroft trying to get a hold of you? Are you both an item? Because we think that no matter how much the White Queen has changed, he's not above eviscerating people who flirt with his baby sister."

"_Only_ sister," Ethan added with a smile. "A sentiment that we totally understand."

"Don't the two of you have a microwave you can play in…?" Dwight grumbled as he jogged down the stairs.

"Hey Knight!" the Twins yelled from the rail just as Dwight reached the landing.

"What?"

"The Caterpillar has what you want. He says that you should come see him when you can."

Dwight stopped and stared. He seemed to think a moment, then he said, "Did he show you what it was?"

"Yes," the Twins replied. Evan glanced at his brother and then down at Dwight again. "But we're not exactly sure of what we saw. And neither was he."

"All right. All right, I'll see him later." Dwight hurried out and went the door. The Twins eyed each other, wondering what Dwight was keeping from them.

Laura Bancroft was sitting at the steps—she was wearing an outfit that would send Kurt and Reed screaming by the sheer amount of bold colors as even Dwight decided that she must like to dress blindfolded. Her pigtails whipped around as she looked up to see him and she leapt to his feet. "Hey!"

"What is it?" he frowned.

"Well you're not brushing me off, clearly you must have found something," Laura replied, staring at him. "Did you talk to Kurt like I told you?"

"I don't take orders from little girls."

"Stop calling me that!" Laura stamped her foot and glowered at him. "Did you find anything about Adam—"

"Shh!" Dwight clapped a hand over her mouth and dragged her off, taking her away from the house and from the range on any eavesdroppers as he looked wildly around to make sure that no one had heard. He pulled her all the way by the magnolia garden that some OCD Windsor once ripped up entirely because of the irregular way the magnolias had all been planted.

"Okay." Dwight released her, staring. "Look. Maybe I believe you."

"What changed your mind?" Laura asked.

"Let's just say I ran into him and I've seen gentler eyes on Hannibal Lecter. I really felt like he was going to…I don't know…" Dwight hesitated. He was the last person to judge someone based on behavior seeing as how demented he himself was but… "…I don't know. It just… _scared_ me."

"I know." Laura swallowed and looked at him, looking worried. "I came here because I was scared…and Justin won't believe me."

"What happened?"

"Because my mom and dad pulled some leverage, I stay in Hanover. I'm staying with the only other girl around here, Merril Portman."

"Oh I know Merril. She's nice."

"Yes, I know. But it's just that this morning…" Laura looked around, as though checking again to make sure that they weren't overheard. "This morning…he suddenly came at me at the hall. And…he said something to me. He said that it…it wasn't safe for me to keep doing what I was doing. He wasn't saying details…but I think he said…that tonight's a big night. And that I had to keep out of the way so things can go…smoothly."

Laura sighed. "I know it sounds insane, but he's _never_ done that before. And it was the way he said it. He had me backed to a wall and if Danny Abbot hadn't showed up…"

Dwight glanced away, brow furrowed and thinking. He was targeting Laura…? And he didn't come at people so directly before. Tonight's the big night… Did he mean Parents' Night or…?

"Laura. Are his parents coming?"

"No…I—I think I heard him tell Spencer that his parents aren't coming in from Arizona but they send their well wishes or something."

"So it's not Parents' Night…" Dwight muttered, still deep in thought.

Laura looked at him, looking a little scared. "Dwight—there's something else. I got really thirsty last night and I went downstairs. I went to the kitchen, and I—I happened to look at the knife block and remembered that Merril said something about one of the kitchen knives in Hanover going missing. Anyway…I heard the back door open and I hid in the hall. I swear…I saw him. It was Adam. He'd been out really late, way past lights out—I don't know what he was doing out there, but he found his way in the dark so easily that I'm sure he's done this before. And he was holding something. It caught the light and looked silver, but I don't know."

"We need proof." Dwight suddenly said, looking up. He remembered the look everyone gave him. They'd never believe him and a girl with an overactive imagination. "No one will believe us unless we get confirmation."

"Confirmation…" Laura blinked. "Are you…are you sure, then?"

"No…I'm not…" Dwight replied, face grave. "All we have so far is pretty much just speculation and we don't have anything to show for it. No one will believe us; we're both not credible, and Adam's been a veritable angel as far as I hear."

"What did Kurt say?" Laura asked.

"I haven't spoken to Kurt, but he went to Hanover House yesterday—I saw him with Justin and I heard the others say that when Wes and Danny left Hanover with him."

Laura blanched so fast that Dwight thought she was a having a seizure. "What?" he demanded.

"No, no he shouldn't have come!" Laura hissed, eyes wide and looking afraid. "Justin just issued a command that Danny's supposed to move into Adam's room after tonight, and that he should keep a bit of a better eye on him. Look—inside, Hanover is just like any other House, I think. Everyone talks to everyone else. As it is, I'm pretty sure Adam sees Kurt as a threat already. He wouldn't have cornered him for a little "chat" if he didn't."

"If he finds out Kurt was the one who warned the prefect…" Dwight took a deep breath. "Then Kurt's in trouble too. Deep trouble."

"We need proof. We need proof that this guy is dangerous," Laura agreed. "And we have to do it fast, Dwight. If he's doing something tonight, we don't have time."

The two of them fell silent for a moment. Then Dwight looked up. "You're in Hanover, right? So…do you think can get a hold of the spare key to Adam's room? If he has anything suspicious, he'd hide it there."

"I…I don't know, Spencer holds the spare keys. And he's with Justin a lot—I'd have to steal it and Justin's too good—because he used to be good at lifting things too."

Dwight shook his head gravely. "We have to try. Can you scope it out, try to see how we can possibly get in?"

"Okay," Laura nodded. "And what about you?"

"I'm following him if I can. And I have to see a friend about a video." He looked up at the third floor of Windsor House, hoping that it wasn't quite too late. The day's just begun.

They had a chance. But the clock was ticking.

* * *

Classes were out all day—there was no point, even the teachers were off guiding the student groups and clubs that they were in charge of. The last wave of frenzied preparations was being done for Parents' Night and the pressure triplicated in intensity. It didn't help that nearly all the students were receiving calls from their parents who were trying to a get a hold of them to confirm the engagement for tonight.

As if they didn't already have enough pressure.

The day crept on, and Reed trudged out of the Art Hall looking exhausted and just a little bit dusty. If his mother expected anything, it would have to be the best. Reed's name happened to be one of the highlights of the program for Parents' Night and he had barely spent any time away from the Art Hall. Everything in the hall was neat and the Art Club was still in there trying to put order in the chaos—they had filled the halls with beautiful candles on ancient candelabra, put up elegant drapes, trying to put on a Venetian masquerade kind of air.

That, of course meant a lot more trouble for Reed, who had to find stepladders and other such things just to reach up and get everything pinned high up there. After very nearly completely destroying three of his paintings, he gave up and decided to go out for some air. He helped put away all the paints into the supply rooms and stepped out.

He hadn't gone more than a few steps down the Art Hall front entrance when he saw someone tall waiting at the bottom. Someone who he certainly didn't expect.

Micah Randall looked up from his book, pulled away his gold rimmed glasses, and smiled. "Hello, Reed."

Reed froze on the spot, painfully aware that he looked like a mess. "Oh…hi. Hello, Micah."

The taller boy smiled as he closed his book and put it in his messenger bag. As soon as Reed reached him, he held out a handkerchief to him. "Here. You can use this for the paint. You look tired."

"Th-thank you…" Reed was quite frankly startled by this completely out-of-left-field display of kindness from the boy who hadn't really spoken more than a few words to him. He stared up at him, hands holding the handkerchief but not quite prepared to soil it by wiping away the paint with it. "Uh…are you…waiting for someone? Is Shane here…?"

"No on both questions…" Micah replied in a soft tone. "…I'm here to see you."

Reed blanched. "…me?"

"Yes," Micah nodded. He looked a little serious now. "I think our talk is a little overdue."

Reed swallowed. He didn't know what was going on but the last thing he needed to do now was speak to Shane's ex—or probably currently his boyfriend. He just wasn't prepared to face-off against this boy who has so much power over Shane even after a full year of disappearance. And not at this hour of the morning when he didn't even have his coffee yet.

He shook his head. "…I…I don't think it is. I really… I really have nothing to do with this. Not anymore." He ducked his head and made to walk past, but Micah gently held his shoulder to stop him.

"Yes you do. It's Shane, so you have something to do with him. And you and I have to talk." Micah looked at him with a steady expression.

"I—" Reed stammered, staring up at the other boy, who was now rubbing his glasses with a soft cloth to clean them before slipping them back on. Micah sighed.

"If we don't talk about this now, Reed, I wouldn't feel right about it. We settle this here. Now."

That was already crushing in itself. _'Wouldn't feel right about it', he said, _Reed thought miserably as he just nodded and followed the other boy away from the Art Hall, heading towards one of the grassy areas by the trees. A small wood bench stood under the shade of some poplar trees, and Micah led Reed to it. Reed studied the other boy, seeing him as his exact opposite.

Micah was tall, and had boyish good looks and a calm air around him. He made no excess movement. He was careful and precise. In contrast, Reed was small and awkward, and could barely go into a room without breaking something.

Lost in thought, his foot snagged on a tree root and he yelped as he flew forward. There was a powerful tug behind him as someone grabbed the back of his blazer just as his nose was inches from the ground.

"Are you okay?" Micah asked with marked concern, pulling him back to his feet with little effort. "Shane said you had…some coordination problems."

"He downplays." Reed snorted, bright crimson and dusting himself off. Yes, because displays of weakness in front of the competition was definitely a good idea. But Micah only helped him dust off, and then smiled and kept walking. Reed looked at him, embarrassed. "Shane told you I was a klutz?"

"He talks about you all the time," Micah said patiently as he gestured towards the bench. "I can tell you weigh in his mind a great deal. And he tries not to around me, but I can tall he has difficulty."

"So…about me and Shane, you…" Reed turned red again as he sat down. "Not that—not that we're actually _anything_—but—"

"Yes, I know about you and Shane," Micah murmured as he carefully opened his bag and sat. He took out a thermos of coffee and a cup, and started pouring some. "I suppose you could say I knew that there was something between you and Shane the moment I saw you two holding hands last Valentines' Day."

Reed turned rigid, fists clenching. "So you…knew. That…there was me involved too."

"Yes, I did. It wasn't hard to tell."

"And you just…carried on."

"I thought it was the best course of action."

Reed was livid. So Micah knew. Micah always knew. And he had been with Shane all this time, getting all his attention and driving Reed crazy with the smiles and the looks—he knew every moment that he was with Shane that Reed was somewhere in the background going insane—he knew! He just knew! And he kept Shane away anyway! And now Reed was going to lose him—he wants to "settle" this—because he was going to take Shane just like that—like he could just _walk in and_—

"You think it's really going to be that easy?"

Micah looked up from mid sip of his coffee. "…pardon me?"

Reed leapt to his feet, and he felt his face flush—his heart was racing and his breath was coming short. He had never been all that angry in his entire life but now he couldn't stop. He clenched his fists, "I'm not—I'm not going to stand here and watch anymore. I don't want to. I haven't—I haven't asked for a lot of things in my life, but I'm going to fight for this! You're not taking Shane just when I got him back! You can't just come back here and ruin everything! I won't let you!"

"Reed—" Micah began, getting up.

"No!" Reed practically yelled, clearly going too far to stop. "How can you just come back? All right fine—maybe you were there first, and maybe technically you two never broke up—but you went away! You went away and you were never heard from again! And Shane was really sad—and he moved on! He did his best to! And then he—" Reed choked. "And then he found me! And I didn't ask him to like me but he did! He really did—from the moment he saw me!"

He tried to catch his breath and stared up at Micah, who could only stare at him. "He was silly and he was just a little reckless and he was just—_insane—_and he wouldn't leave me alone even when I wasn't ready for his attention—and he…he…" he swallowed, finding the words, "He waited, he didn't let go, he looked after me and he protected me…and he made me smile, and laugh and feel like I was a real person…and he never quit not even after that accident…no, he never quit…I was the first one he wanted…it was me…"

"Reed…" Micah sighed.

"No!" Reed glared at him—and failed, to emotionally shaken. He felt tears sting his eyes as he glared up at the boy in the glasses. "He chose _me_, Micah! I barely—I barely had a say in this! I didn't expect this to happen to me ever. I've never ever had anything like this in my life and I never ever thought I even deserved it. But it's different now. I can't let you be in the way and I don't care if you were there first! I don't—I don't want to lose Shane. I can't. I can't lose Shane. I just…can't."

He finally stopped, swallowing as he tried to catch his breath. All throughout this outburst, Micah just stood, looking at him with an odd expression. It looked like sympathy. Like he knew everything that Reed said. As though he absorbed the full brunt of Reed's emotions and simply listened.

Reed stood, staring at him with eyes reddening as he choked back a sob, waiting for a response that didn't seem to come. "…say something."

Micah gave him a small smile in answer. "…do you feel better now?"

"Yes," Reed choked, nodding. "Lots. Oh god…" Reed sank back onto the bench, burying his face in hands. "I can't believe I just did that."

"I can't believe you didn't do that sooner," Micah replied as he took out another cup from his bag and poured coffee into it. He held it out carefully to him. "And, well, that's the problem, isn't it? There are times where it's best let it out." The smile looked kind, if not a little tired.

Reed gave him a look of thanks and accepted the warm cup of coffee held out to him, and he sighed where he sat. Micah sat unobtrusively next to him, and for a moment, they were quiet, with only the light chirp of a couple of birds overhead. The sun was warming them through the trees.

Staring down at the cup of dark liquid, Reed whispered, "…do you love Shane, Micah? I mean…" he glanced at him, "…do you still love him?"

Micah seemed to find this a little amusing, not looking at him. The dappled sunlight gleamed a little off the gold rims of his glasses. "Yes."

"…Oh." Well. He figured as much anyway. Who wouldn't love Shane? That oddball had a way of forcibly endearing himself to you when he set his mind to winning you over…

The tall boy never lost his smile as he looked down at the curly-haired junior next to him. "And you, Reed? Do you love Shane?"

Reed stared up at the sky a moment, wondering at that question the way he had for quite a while now, in spite of already knowing the answer. It never hurt to double check, or triple check, on this sort of thing.

And then smiled a little back up at Micah.

"Yes. I really do." He felt the tears climb up to his eyes again. "I love Shane, Micah."

Micah smiled at him and looked back ahead with a small sigh. "…I know you do. ...and I know I don't stand a chance."

Reed looked up at him. "What do you mean?"

There was a sad resignation in Micah's tone. "…it's the problem with waiting it out, you know. When you're scared…when you're too afraid to do something or say something at a time when you should…if you just let the tide take you, you lose your chance. You lose the chance. And…then you'll just find one day that it was too late."

Micah stared at the cup in his hands. He tried to smile but he couldn't when he tried. "…I never stopped loving Shane, Reed. Not even after his dad outed me to my parents…not even after my parents sent me away. I've been gone for a long time, Reed. Sent far away to…to "straighten out", you know. But not a day passed when I didn't think about the people I left behind. …when I didn't think about Shane… and how it must've…it must've _killed him_… Because knowing that guy, he would be thinking it was all his fault. Beating himself up when the truth is…" And now he looked at Reed with tired eyes—eyes that must've cried so hard before, so much that he was out of tears. "I was the one that let it happen."

Reed stared back at him, confused, shaking his head a little. "…what…?"

"It takes two to make a mistake that we made that night when his dad threw me out. I knew it was a bad idea, but I went along with it. And in the aftermath…I could've said no. I could've spoken out. To my parents, to Mr. Anderson. I could've said out loud that I was gay and that wasn't going to change—not today, not tomorrow, not ever. I could've told them that I loved Shane so much that I could stand him hating me, I could stand him ignoring me—I could stand anything." He looked at Reed. "…including watching falling in love with someone else."

Reed looked at Micah, crestfallen. "…Oh…Micah, I—"

Micah shook his head. "I could've come. Any time, I could've bought a bus ticket or a plane ticket something and come back. I could have found a way to come back and find Shane and tell him how much he meant to me and how it wasn't his fault. I could. If I really wanted to, I could. But I didn't. I thought this was—things were better this way. That whole time, Reed—all of that time in my hands—I didn't do anything. I kept quiet. I let it happen, thinking it would be easier to be quiet and take it. And it…" he laughed without mirth. "…it freaking sucked. …it took a school trip to San Francisco and getting the one in a million shot of running into Erin and Becca again—it took _someone else_ doing the work for me to get me to come back here. I had to hear about him nearly _dying _on some freak accident before I acted." He lowered his eyes. "…and of course by then…when I finally came here…it was too late."

He looked at Reed. "The chance was gone."

The shorter boy looked away, not really knowing what to say. Micah looked him over and said, "…do you know…what he said to me when I told him I still loved him after all this time?"

Reed glanced at him, almost afraid of what he would say, almost daring to hope.

"…he said that he loves me too…that he always had and always will."

Reed winced, as though the words physically hurt to hear. Micah paused, and closed his eyes. He took a deep breath that only trembled so slightly as the tears slipped out from beneath his eyelids, matting his lashes.

"…but he said…" his breath caught. "He said that he was so sorry…that it broke his heart to tell me this and he never ever meant to hurt me, but…he just loves you more."

Reed buried his face in his hands and burst into tears.

* * *

Logan was glaring at his two friends, both of whom were sitting in Julian's room looking as though they'd been stunned. They stared at him from where they sat—Julian sitting on his bed, Derek sitting on a chair in front of him—and Logan continued to look angry.

"What is wrong with the two of you?" he demanded. "I'm not an idiot and you don't have to treat me like one. You've been keeping something from me, the both of you." He looked at Julian. "You don't think I notice that you only ever allow Derek near you? That you're losing weight and haven't been sleeping? And you!" he turned that deadly green gaze at Derek. "You can tell to him and all the rest of the world when I act up, when something is wrong with _me_, but you can't bring yourself to even tell me what's going on?"

If one got right down to it, to the barest and most vital technicalities, the three of them were still best friends. They were the ones who had been friends from the moment they all met at Freshman Orientation more than three years ago, and they were inseparable ever since, even when Julian frequently left to go to work. They went to each other's houses in the summers and holidays, and they knew every eccentricity and quirk they had. Logan knew that Julian has a fascination with the rain and that Derek went crazy if his books were messed up from the Dewey-Decimal system. Derek knew that Logan tried to blowtorch barbecue and that Julian kept stealing Logan's iPod. And Julian knew where Derek kept his four little black books and that Logan's apparent "ice heart" knew how to break to pieces.

They knew each other.

Or so they imagined.

To be honest, Derek could say that this was the biggest display of open friendship that Logan had shown yet—because he really looked angry and unhappy about what was going on and he wasn't afraid to scream it out for all of Stuart House to hear—that he was effectively being blocked out of the trio that had once been, and still is, so close.

And to Logan, it was treason. He had been left behind before, by family, and people have turned against him for one reason or another. Whether it was his fault or not, it had happened. The only constants in his life were Derek and Julian now—the two people he thought he could count on.

And now they were pulling away.

"If you have a problem with me, just fucking tell me!" Logan yelled.

The Stuart boys in the hall—all preparing for the big night as well—made themselves scarce, sensing the telltale signs. No one wanted to get hit by crossfire. Thad, arms full of the dry-cleaned suits that the boys had previously sent out, frowned and shook his head in disapproval as he left the hall with Nick. Marcus, Cy, and Lawrence, sensing danger, grabbed their books and fled.

But Bailey stayed in the hall, lowering his headphones.

"Logan…stop yelling," Derek said softly.

"You don't get to tell me what to do right now, Derek." Logan snarled as he took a step into the room.

"Get out of my room." Julian wasn't looking at Logan anymore. He was staring at the ground and didn't move a muscle. Logan stared at him in disbelief. "What?"

"Get. Out. Of my room." Julian said in a steady, firm tone. "Or I will make you."

Color soared to Logan's face. He took another step towards Julian and Derek immediately flew at him. "Okay stop! Stop!" he commanded, glaring, keeping hold of his arms. "Look, you're not allowed to flip out now. You are not. I know you've been miserable and you've been unhappy about everything that's been going on, but you don't get to take it out on Julian right now—you _don't." _He dropped his voice._ "_Go back to your room, take your meds. I'll come over in a second. And I will explain."

Julian's eyes flew to him even if his body didn't move. Derek glanced back, glared at him, and then looked back to Logan. "I will explain as best as I can. Just don't flip out now. You've been doing okay on your temper, Logan, don't mess this up. It's not the time."

Logan glared down at him and then looked at Julian. Julian raised his eyes to him briefly—Logan saw nothing there, only the perfect mask that Julian had mastered over the years—and then the actor turned away. Logan looked back down on Derek. "So you're taking his side?"

This was the problem Derek did not want—being caught between one friend and another. He glared at Logan. "I'm not taking sides Logan." He glanced back to Julian. "If anything, I told him to tell you."

"Tell me what?" Logan hissed.

"Derek!" Julian leapt to his feet, frowning at Derek now—and there was that desperate glint in his eyes.

Derek glared back at him as though to tell him to shut up and at the same time reassure him that he still had his back. The varsity captain now looked to the Stuart Prefect. "Go, Logan. Just go, do like I told you."

For a long moment, Logan stood in that doorway, staring down at Julian, who looked fearlessly back at him the way he always did. And for a moment, Logan thought he could see something there—as though the mask was cracking.

Julian was still his friend, no matter what they said or did to each other. And when he looked at Julian now, he could see the strain on his friend. Something was happening to him and whatever it was, it was eating at him and taking a toll. He wasn't even yelling back or arguing. He was just standing there, using all he had to stay up.

"Why won't you just tell me?" Logan asked in a tone unlike all the ones he used before. It reminded them all of the days when it was still just the three of them.

Julian swallowed, staring at him intently, determined to keep himself up. He looked back at Logan and glared. "…you don't get to suddenly pretend like you care."

Out of everything said before, that cut Logan. And when Logan was cut, he cut back. He cared, he really did and it wasn't often that he did and he didn't care about a lot of other people apart from himself, but if Julian was just going to spit in his face—

He glanced at Derek with venom in his eyes. "Let him wallow in self-pity." The prefect turned heel and strode off, furious, heading to his room. Bailey stood back and made sure to avoid his wrath, staring at him. "Get out of here, Tipton!" Logan snarled as he headed to the anteroom. Pavarotti chirped, agitated by his fury, and the door slammed shut.

Derek looked out the door, made sure he was gone, and then turned around and pushed the door closed before going to Julian. He grabbed him by the arms and shook him. "Are you all right? Are you going to be all right?"

"Get out of here and make sure he's fine."

"I'm not going anywhere until I'm sure you are too." Derek glared. "You're white as a sheet." He immediately moved away and looked back to Julian's window. He strode to it and pulled away the curtain.

Sitting on the pane—out of sight from Logan when he almost came in—was another present. A small ball of flowers, roses, was dangling over the door, with a note pinned to it, written in dark red liquid.

It said, _Don't worry. You made the right choice to stay. It'll be over soon. I'll protect you from them._

That in itself was enough, but it wasn't as bad as what was lying at Derek's feet, having fallen there when Julian had dropped it.

It was another photograph… but this was different. Even Derek's hands shook as he picked it up.

It came from an old Dalton Academy yearbook, and one of the photos of Julian in school that was also in his fan galleries online. This photograph had Julian, Logan, and Derek in it. But the difference now was that only Julian remained unharmed, smiling. Derek's face had been scratched out. But Logan…

Logan's face had been viciously torn out.

Derek took a deep breath and Julian sank his face into his hands, shaking. "D…" he whispered. "D, I have to leave. I have to. I was wrong. You were right, I was wrong. I have to leave; I have to get out of here." He took a breath. "She's going to get to you and Logan and—"

"Hey!" Derek grabbed his arm, glaring at him. "Stop! Stop it, man. Nothing is going to happen to us, understand? She's just some sick little fangirl." But even he was a little white in the face. He sat Julian down and started trying to clean up. "As far as I'm concerned, let her come and try. Logan and I will be happy to end this little freakshow of hers."

He picked up the ball of flowers again and without warning, a cascade of red dripped out of them and into his hands, onto the floor. He cursed under his breath, dropping the "gift." "What the f—"

Julian got up and went to him, heart pounding as he grabbed some tissues to wipe away the mess. "Get out of here. Go get Logan, tell him to go to Warblers' Hall. Just make sure he's out and okay. Keep an eye on each other."

"What about you?" Derek asked, torn and alarmed. "Dude, if that psycho chick has someone helping her out in here, you can't trust anyone."

Bailey walked into the room, looking pale and breathless, heart pounding. "I can keep an eye on him."

The two of them jumped and turned around. "Tipton, what the hell are you doing here?" Derek demanded.

"We're all Stuarts, right?" Bailey choked. He had a rag in his hands. "I'm here to help. Let me help."

"How much do you know?" Julian demanded, getting up.

"I know that you're in love with Logan."

"Son of a—" Julian kicked a chair furiously. "Freaking _everyone_ knows except for him? What the hell, Derek—this is really bad! Is Logan's head made of concrete?"

"No—no, I overheard you! You and Derek in the hall way back around Valentines." Bailey moved forward, hands up. "I didn't say a _word _to anyone. And I overheard just now that you've got some psycho fan. And you're worried about Derek and Logan. I—I can't really do much, but I can promise not to tell!" he quickly said as Julian advanced on him with intention to hurt. "I won't tell. I swear. And I get it, you know? Trying to do damage control and keep panic from going out and trying to keep crazy people from going crazier. Just—just let me help. Because—because _damn it_, you're not supposed to be doing this all by yourselves!" He stared at them, looking pale and worried.

Derek and Julian looked at each other, then at Bailey. Bailey stared back, opening his arms a little. "Come on! You guys need help, you know it."

"Logan's going to be so pissed if he finds out we let _Tipton_ help and not him," Derek grumbled.

Bailey took this as approval and immediately moved to Julian, helping him clean up the bloody mess on his floor. Derek glanced back at his best friend. Julian looked back at him, swallowed and nodded. "Go on, get out of here! Get Logan out to practice! Make sure he's not alone."

As Derek fled, Julian looked at Bailey. "Shouldn't you be in Warblers' practice too, Tipton?"

"Well, I was on my way until I heard the scream fest going on here from Logan," Bailey replied, making sure that no trace of the blood remained on the floor.

"Yeah, and I bet you think I'm an idiot for liking him," Julian muttered as he gingerly dropped the ball of roses into the wastebasket.

"Not really," Bailey replied as he also went to throw the waste paper into the trash can. "I seriously question your taste in men, but hey, to each his own—I'm sure you must have _some_ reason."

Julian rolled his eyes a little. There really were times when even _he_ didn't know why Logan mattered so much to him when all the blond was ever interested in was the diva from Windsor. It was strange how he and Kurt got mildly along—they were relatively civil and that was a good thing. And Kurt was helping him, which was above and beyond the call of duty; he had to appreciate that.

Which only made it _so much harder_ to deal with the fact that there was clearly a reason why Logan was so crazy about him.

"You all right?" Bailey asked.

"I'm fine," Julian replied, pressing his fingers to his temples. "I've…I think I'll go to see the theatre club. They've been asking me to help them out with that Shakespearean play they're staging for Parents' Night. I guess I can go there and then make some brutally honest comments and make myself feel better by making them feel inferior, maybe even start the cinema versus-theatre debate—that always gets them so worked up."

Bailey tilted his head and looked at Julian. "You know, you're really not half the ass you try to make yourself out to be?"

"Oh shut up, Tipton. Let's throw this stuff out and get out of here." Julian picked up the garbage bin. He spotted the mutilated photograph on the ground. He swallowed again. Closer and closer. It was like a noose tightening around his neck. And the more this feeling grew, the more people seemed to be getting involved.

That wasn't a good sign—it only meant that he was only dragging people into the mess. He picked it up and crumpled it in his hand.

* * *

Reed absently climbed up the stairs to Windsor, not really sure what to think or feel about himself. That talk with Micah had rattled him and at the same time comforted him. Micah had been very patient with him—he stayed until Reed was able to control himself again, and gave him something to drink to calm him down. Reed's eyes weren't all that red anymore, and he had decided to go back to Windsor, and maybe catch up to Warblers' practice. Micah walked him to the door of the House.

"_Hey," Micah had said as Reed awkwardly thanked him for the talk that they had, "…I just wanted you to know…that if you don't say anything now… you might miss your chance. Don't go that road, Reed. Trust me, you'll really regret it if you don't try. Living in a world of 'what ifs' and 'what could have beens' is the worst."_

Maybe Micah inherently knew that he hadn't actually talked to Shane about how he felt. Reed had meant to, all the way since Valentines' Day…but then the whole mess happened and then he couldn't even bring himself to look Shane in the face.

It was strange how their situation reversed. It was now Reed who sought Shane out instead of the other way around. _I guess it's true what they say…you don't know what you have until it's gone._

Reed sighed faintly to himself as he headed to his room. Micah didn't have to do what he did, but he did it anyway. And it must've taken some pretty incredible self-control. And maybe it was that which Shane saw in him. He felt a little bad about it, and he didn't really know how to respond.

_Fortune favors the bold._

Reed sighed again. It was his turn to reach back out now, wasn't it? Before it was too late?

He stopped in the hall and looked up. …_Music…?_

He turned to where it was coming from, and realized that it was coming to Blaine's room. Surprised, he crept a little closer, and heard the strains of a guitar. Weren't Blaine and Kurt supposed to be in Warblers' practice?

…_And I know it's easy to say, but it's harder to feel this way…_

And Reed realized: he knew that voice. He would know that voice anywhere in the world. He'd know it in the middle of a crowd or even if it yelled from the other side of a cliff. Reed very, very gently turned the knob in such a way that it didn't make a sound. Carefully easing the door open, he tried to peer in.

And there Shane sat. He looked peaceful amidst the sun that poured from the windows, his hair in unruly curls all over again. He looked lost in thought even as he played. He had Blaine's guitar again, and he was gently picking at it with long, elegant fingers, singing softly to himself, like someone trying to keep his hands occupied as his mind wandered off elsewhere.

…_and I miss you more than I should…_

_What is he doing here…?_

He pushed the door open a little more to listen a bit more, and it creaked so loudly that he suspected it could've been heard all the way off-campus. Reed blanched as the boy on the couch quickly looked up.

Green gray eyes locked onto brown ones—and there was no mistaking that head of strawberry blond curls. "…Reed?" Shane blinked, quickly leaping to his feet, staring with wide eyes.

"I…I was just—" Reed stepped back quickly, heart hammering. His fight or flee response had used up all its fight for the day or so it felt like, and he wanted to just go as quickly as possible. But Shane was having none of it. He flew to the door.

"No, wait—!" Shane jumped forward, pulling the door open so suddenly that Reed jumped. "Wait—wait, please. Sorry, look…I…"

He looked so confused and so unsure of himself. He flustered the way Reed did. And why shouldn't he? Had Reed ever really given him any reason to hope for something from him anyway? Until now, to this day, it was Shane who made the first move. Reed always waited for him to make the move and he just followed along, believing that he just went along with his energy and willfulness because he himself couldn't find a foothold.

Reed looked up at Shane and from this distance he could see every emotion that crossed those usually bright and sure eyes. He looked just about as confused and torn as Reed ever did. He could barely form his words, but he looked at Reed as though looking for the right thing to say.

And for some reason…it made Reed smile.

…He really was a spaz, but in all different ways. "Don't look so nervous," Reed said gently.

"I can't help it," Shane answered, sighing, but he clearly relaxed upon hearing Reed speak to him again. He shrugged and threw up his hands."…you keep running away from me, Bambi—trying not to step on a twig and scare you away, here!"

"What did you just call me?" Reed gave him a stunned, indignant look. He took it back. Not cute at _all_. He frowned at him and Shane held up his hands.

"Okay—see? That. Foot in mouth syndrome. I have it. It's a terminal illness and someday maybe I'll find a cure. Please don't go? Please? Please just…talk to me. Yell at me, be angry, _something_…just…don't leave." He stared at him expectantly.

At Reed sighed, rolling his eyes and shaking his head. "...what am I going to do with you...?"

"...hopefully...join me?" Shane gave him a hopeful expression now, leaning down a little to catch his gaze.

Reed glanced back at him, a small flush rising to his cheeks but expression remaining nonchalant. "...what were you singing?"

Shane just smiled and opened the door a little more. Reed stared at him, but went in. He walked to the couch where Shane sat, smiling to himself a little as he remembered how they'd been in this situation before—just after Shane's accident, when he was killing time on Blaine's guitar.

Clearly bolstered by Reed's willingness to be in his presence, Shane smiled and sat down next to him, picking up the guitar again. Reed asked him, "What are you doing here?"

"Well…" Shane replied, picking at the strings again, "…the parents are coming…and so they told me to go on ahead here, and wait for them instead. After that…depending on what they decide about me transferring here…I either go back with them to get dropped off at Walcott, or I go back with them to get dropped off at the residence here in Ohio."

"How did you get in?"

"Oh, I lifted Blaine's key from his pocket when I hugged him earlier. Then I just snuck in. Your school security is _terrible. _Windsor's even worse now with Han's cameras down."

Reed gaped at him, wide-eyed and smacked his arm. "Ow!" Shane howled, pretending to be wounded. "What? Did you want me to just wander around campus aimlessly, causing untold havoc everywhere?"

Reed rolled his eyes and just shook his head. Shane smiled at him as he continued to pluck the strings. "…I'm really glad you're talking to me." He meant it, and Reed knew it.

The smaller boy looked up at him and smiled a little. "I guess I have to admit that I missed your energy a little."

"A little?" Shane smiled as he started to play the melody he was playing earlier.

Reed glanced at him with a smile and said, "So what were you singing?"

"Well…I was snooping around the room, as usual…and I found some of Blaine's music sheets… I can't really read this, but I do know the song…" Shane picked up some sheets on the table and gave them to Reed. He continued to play a little more, and smiled faintly. "Lyrics are on there too."

Reed looked up to him, watching, as Shane kept his gaze fastened to his, singing softly as he played.

_Diggin' a hole and the walls are caving in…behind me…_

_Air's getting thin but I'm trying, I'm breathing in…_

_Come find me…_

As Reed followed his words through the lyrics on the sheet, Shane smiled at him faintly. "_It hasn't felt like this before…_"

Reed lifted his eyes to meet his and sang with him softly.

_It hasn't felt like home…before you…_

_And I know it's easy to say, but it's harder to feel this way…_

_And I miss you more than I should, than I thought I could—_

_I can't get my mind off you…_

The two of them broke their gazes, as though embarrassed at the way they were singing to each other. It felt that way—like they were singing to each other the words that were difficult to say out loud. Shane continued to sing carefully, a half smile on his face.

_I know you're scared that I'll soon be over it; that's part of it all…_

_Part of the beauty of falling in love with you is the fear you won't fall…_

Reed felt a flush rise to his cheeks at the way Shane sang this song—a quiet sincerity that he wasn't prepared for. And he slowly began to realize who Shane seemed to be so lost in thought while he was singing this earlier. He did have a lot on his mind.

…it just turned out that Reed was who was in his mind.

And it was in this moment when Reed wondered—he really really wondered—why he just couldn't tell Shane everything. Shane made it seem so easy. And maybe…it was supposed to be. Maybe because it felt…right.

Maybe it didn't have to be difficult. Maybe this leap of faith wasn't so big. Because Shane already made it clear that he was standing on the other side, waiting to catch him when he jumped.

He had been waiting too.

The two of them looked to each other as they both sang.

_And I hate the phone, but I wish you'd call…_

_Thought being alone was better than…_

_Was better than..._

_And I know it's easy to say, but it's harder to feel this way…_

_And I miss you more than I should, than I thought I could—_

_I can't get my mind off you…_

Shane smiled as he leaned a little closer, just proving a little more who he was singing this song for. "_Can't get my mind off you…"_

Reed met his eyes, smiling faintly as he leaned close, unafraid, "_And I know it's easy to say, but it's harder to feel this way..."_

Silence fell. Shane's hand moved away front the guitar and lightly fell on Reed's. The little artist stared intently at the other boy, who looked down a little for a moment, as though trying to get his thoughts in order. In the end, he seemed to decide that there was nothing really left to say.

Reed stared at him, that boy who leaned so very very close to him, who cupped his hand in his.

"_Living in a world of 'what ifs' and 'what could have beens' is the worst."_

Reed felt his breath catch even as he carefully reached up, his hand shaking a little. The jump wasn't all that big—the distance wasn't all that far between them—their hands didn't have to move so far—but it was still a leap. And he couldn't believe it, but he was going to take his chance before it flew away.

And Shane, who had always been waiting on the other side, barely believing it himself, met his hand warmly with his own as he leaned close, their breaths mixing, ghosting over skin for that one very brief moment—so brief that one could barely remember it unless each millisecond, each touch and each brush of eyelashes in that peaceful silence was counted—before their lips softly touched.

It was frightening. It was the most frightening thing in the world for Reed—feeling the ground give way beneath him, that fateful millisecond when your brain screams against it, that it was wrong, that it was scary, that this wasn't a good idea, but all the rest of you could only will yourself on—praying desperately it wasn't a mistake and it's too late to turn back—

And then he only realizes Shane's gentle reassuring warmth over his hand before their lips softly touched.

* * *

They didn't really notice that something was wrong when Derek Siegerson dropped him off at the Hall just prior to heading to the Rowing Team meeting. Sure he _looked_ more or less the same—still tall, blond, good-looking and green-eyed—but something told Kurt that the person who was sitting on that couch in Warblers Hall, that person who had not moved nor made a soundduring the meeting so far, that person who stared in one spot of sunshine and was virtually a rock, wasn't Logan Wright.

Well…technically.

"Logan?" Blaine repeated.

No response.

Logan simply kept staring at the dust specks that floated into the sunlight, completely unaware that the entire room was staring at him since one of the boys had already asked twice if Logan would like a fair shot at the solo because he was unable to attend the duel due to official duties—which was a bit of a pointless question since it was far, far too late to change anything.

With Harvey and Medel called off for a teachers' meeting as the night's event closed in, the Warblers were at a complete loss. Blaine stared at the Stuart Prefect while the other Warblers glanced at each other with some apprehension.

Kurt got up and walked to the boy. "Logan?"

A slow blink. And Logan raised his head to Kurt with glazed eyes. Kurt had never ever seen Logan look this hazy before in the span of time that he'd seen him medicated. "Yes, Alice…?"

There was medicated, and then there was just _gone_.

"The lights are on but no one's home," Wes raised an eyebrow as the other Warblers started to lean forward. Blaine got up and joined Kurt, both of them standing in front of Logan and looking at him in concern. David frowned and said, "Okay, okay, don't crowd, boys—let's give him a little room." He walked up next to Kurt and Blaine and looked down at Logan.

"Logan," Kurt said firmly. "Can you hear me?"

A flutter of a blink again. "…Oh…yes, I can."

He sounded so unbelievably _serene_. And Kurt found that far more unsettling than anything else. He really was just _sitting_ there and staring into nothing and answering in simple quiet sentences in a tone only used when someone was unfocused or half asleep.

He waved a hand in front of Logan's eyes. The tall boy just kept looking straight at him, and didn't even bat an eye. Kurt now looked at Blaine in alarm. Blaine looked very nervous now—even he had never seen this before. He turned to Logan and put a hand on his shoulder. "Logan? Logan, _focus_."

"…pardon?"

"It's me, Blaine?" he said emphatically. He received no response from that. Blaine looked at Kurt, looking anxious. "This hasn't happened before." He looked at the Stuart House members of the Warblers. "When he's medicated, has this ever happened?"

"No," Thad frowned, shaking his head. "He doesn't act like that. He's just quieter and ignores people more, but nothing like that."

"He wasn't like that earlier…" Nick said, looking nervous. "We heard him having an argument with Julian and Derek. He wasn't like that at all."

Kurt looked concerned, putting a hand to Logan's forehead to check his temperature while Danny lifted a wrist to check the prefect's pulse. While he did all these things, Logan didn't even move. He just blinked with empty green eyes at Kurt, who could only stare. Those eyes looked greener than ever. Maybe because his pupils looked a little bit constricted.

"Logan?" Danny now said as he tried to turn Logan's face towards him to get his attention. "What happened? Did you drink anything or eat anything?"

He was completely ignored. Logan just kept staring at Kurt blankly. "Logan!" Kurt called, snapping his fingers in front of his eyes.

Immediately, Logan reacted. "Yes, Alice?"

The Twins were trying desperately to not smile at this—it was the second time, so clearly it was going to keep happening. Wes gaped at the complete bizarreness of it all before he at the others. "How come he doesn't respond to anyone except Kurt…?"

"That's not true," Blaine frowned. "Didn't he answer me earlier? Logan?" And now he was ignored. More Warblers crept closer, trying to figure out what was going on.

"Oh man…" David blinked as he tugged on Logan's arm, trying to pull him to his feet, but he was as useless and immobile as a rock. The Twins approached and began to circle him a little.

"Is he sporting any other symptoms?" they asked carefully.

"Well his pulse…I can't call it normal…" said Danny, exhaling. "And his pupils are slightly constricted. He _had_ something but it's…well it doesn't seem to be an overdose or he would be worse off than this…"

"And this is bad enough." Kurt looked up, and then grabbed Logan's hands. "Logan? Do you remember anything? Can you explain what happened before you got here with Derek?"

To which Logan patiently replied, "I'm afraid I can't explain myself, sir, because I'm not myself right now, you know."

The Warblers burst into exclamations of amazement. The Twins looked like they were having heart failure in complete delight. Blaine blinked in surprise. "What the _hell_…?" he murmured, staring.

This was when Bailey came in, looking confused when he saw all the Warblers crowding around the couch, surrounding Logan. "What's going on?" he asked. "Where are Harvey and Medel?"

"Teacher's meeting," said Wes. "There's kind of something wrong with Logan."

"What do you mean?" Bailey stopped short and immediately turned white. Knowing what he knew, this news was completely unwelcome. "What's wrong with Logan? What happened?"

"We don't know," David replied, shaking his head as Kurt continued to wave his hands in front of Logan's eyes. "He walked in here and sat down and while we were talking something…kicked in, I guess. Because he's just sitting there and can't hear or acknowledge any of us. We just know that he's completely out of it. He can't even explain anything to us—he's just this…_vegetable_!"

Blaine looked up when Bailey went out for an instant and then walked back in, dragging a heavily protesting Julian with him, never more grateful for the sight of one of Logan's "wingmen". "Julian—do you know anything about this?"

"About what?" he demanded as he pulled off his sunglasses and walked to the prefect who sat at the couch. Blaine explained in a few words everything that they had just seen, and how Logan couldn't seem to acknowledge anyone except Kurt. Julian rolled his eyes at that last part, but inwardly his mind was racing. This was bad. Logan wasn't anything like this earlier. Well if this was going to be a test of how bad Logan's situation was right now, it would be having Julian talk to him fresh after a fight like the last one.

"Logan," he said, standing in front of him. "Can you hear me?"

The blond stared up listlessly at him. "…of course I can."

Everyone looked at each other in vast surprise. Aside from Kurt, no one else had successfully gotten Logan's attention. "Wait, you can _talk_ to him?" Kurt asked, staring at him.

"So can you, apparently," Julian muttered. "Is that such a big deal?"

Kurt leaned a little closer. "Do you think this is—"

"Don't even say it," Julian hissed at him even as his mind tried to find all the possibilities. Logan wasn't like this earlier. So something happened in between. What did Logan do? He went to his room…and he'd gone to his room because Derek said—

Julian's eyes widened. Quickly, he patted Logan's pockets. "Logan, where's your medication?"

The disoriented prefect made a deep sigh. "If you'd really like to know, it's that way." He gestured absently to nothing.

Everyone looked around. Julian blinked. "What is?"

"What you want."

Seeing absolutely nothing, Kurt looked at him incredulously. "It is?"

Logan blinked. "It is what?"

"What you said was there!" Julian burst out.

"What's there?"

"Your medication!" Kurt snapped.

"What medication?"

"But you just said—!" Julian groaned in absolute frustration, resisting the urge to strangle his friend. He dragged a hand down his face as Kurt glared at the Twins who were expiring on the floor in fits of hysterical laughter.

"This is not funny!" Blaine scolded them.

"Yes—it is!" the Twins gasped between chokes of laughter.

Kurt walked around the couch and found Logan's satchel dropped at the side. He picked it up and started rummaging in it for some kind of clue. He saw a yellow pill container in there and pulled it out. "This! I found it!" he exclaimed, going back to Blaine and Julian. "Is this his medication?"

"Yeah," Julian nodded.

Kurt frowned and popped open the lid. He saw a whole lot of white pills, and at first glance, they looked all the same. He carefully poured some of it into his hand. Blaine moved over to him, looking down. Kurt searched the pills and found that they weren't all the same at all. They only _looked _alike, if you weren't looking very hard. There were two kinds in there—one with a slightly different shape than the other.

"That…definitely doesn't look right…" Blaine muttered as Kurt stared with wide eyes at the pills in his palm.

"There are two different kinds in here…" Kurt stated, staring at Logan.

"One side will make you taller, and the other side will make you shorter," Logan responded amiably, without prompting.

The Twins' hysterical giggling was damn near uncontrollable at this point and it was driving Kurt crazy. The prefect of Stuart House was spouting nonsense and he was clearly drugged by something that wasn't his normal medication. There was no way Logan could've possibly done this to himself. That terrible feeling started to rear its ugly head again and Kurt felt a cold pit in his stomach.

Because Logan's medication was clearly a personal thing. It wasn't something that he flailed around and Kurt was certain that it wasn't something that psychotic obsessive fangirls were privy to knowing. After the fiasco at Winter Fest, everyone knew Logan took medication to control his temper, but no one could've possibly known what it even looked like or where it even _was_. This trick was carefully done by someone who had been watching very intently, someone who could be around enough.

Someone inside the school.

Color draining from his face, Kurt looked at Julian indignantly. For heavenssake, _he_ was supposed to be the one on the high alert for these things—"How did this happen?"

"You're asking _me_?" Julian hissed back at him.

"Well clearly _you_ should know given the situation—"

"_He_ was the one giving me a hard time here—"

"_Him_? He's the drugged one!"

"His _medication_ isn't exactly in my checklist!"

"Well clearly it _should_ be."

The Warblers frowned a little in confusion, looking back and forth between Julian and Kurt who, as far as they knew, have never yet spoken a breath to each other and yet are now bickering on the same train of thought. Even Blaine noticed as he looked back and forth between them. "Excuse me, I don't mean to interrupt you two, but—what's going on here? Did I miss something?" he stared at his boyfriend and his ex's best friend and wondered how in the world this situation was even happening.

Kurt crossed his arms over his chest and glared at Julian, raising an eyebrow expectantly. Julian glared back at him and looked back to Logan, grabbing his hands. "Logan—!"

* * *

Now, from Logan Wright's point of view, he was not really conscious of anything that had been happening at all. None whatsoever, until this present moment. He had been hearing voices, and he turned to them because they were the only sound that registered. He couldn't recall ever being this hazy. It really didn't feel right at all. He couldn't feel anything—not his hands, his feet, his body—it was like being completely weightless.

It wasn't until he heard those voices—two familiar voices talking that slowly were getting clearer the more they talked, that he started to come back a little bit.

He felt his hand. A warmth pulsing there. Feeling spread slowly but surely. Someone was holding his hand. The haze and fog was starting to clear, and he began to see shapes and shadows through this nothingness of gray. It looked like people.

"_Logan…?_"

The shapes in front of him were becoming clearer, the people who moved there, but the location itself couldn't focus, like a camera in the wrong depth of field. Logan closed his eyes for a moment, trying to focus. When he carefully opened them again…he was fairly sure that he might not be where he wanted to be precisely.

He could see Julian standing in front of him, holding his hands and staring at him with wide eyes. …but why was he partially fading away? He could see through his body—like he was a ghost. But he was looking at him in concern. "Logan…?" Julian was saying. "Are you still with us?"

"We have to get him to the clinic or something," came Kurt's matter-of-fact tone. Logan turned to look at him immediately, wondering what Kurt was doing here. And Kurt _looked_ like Kurt, for the most part. With the uniform and the neat hair. But he didn't recall Kurt strutting around in school uniform with an apron and a headband. A big white _apron _and a freaking _headband _for heavenssakes.

Hands to his hips, Kurt frowned at Julian, whose opacity was still questionable. "He's completely out of it. We should get him out of here to someplace safer."

"Maybe he just needs to let the effect wear off," suggested Blaine, who also looked the same, with the hair and the uniform and the clear eyes. …but that pair of fluffy rabbit ears sprouting from the top of his head was _really_ unsettling to Logan, to be honest. It didn't help when he pulled out the pocketwatch as he remarked, "Harvey and Medel better get back soon… They might have ideas."

"They're just running a little late," said David, whose big top hat was so large that it was falling over his eyes, and while it didn't seem to be bothering him, it bothered Logan a whole lot. Wes, who was sitting on the table, arms crossed and looking displeased, didn't seem to be realizing that he too had a pair of floppy ears, but larger than Blaine's. "How do you suppose we get him out of here? We have to fix this! The freaking Stuart prefect is high as a _kite_ and we've got a few hours left before Parents' Night begins!"

Nothing made sense. Where was he? What was happening? Why did everyone look like that?

Kurt groaned, dropping his head into his hands. "This can't be happening. This isn't happening…"

Logan closed his eyes. He was dreaming. He was sure of it. He fell asleep, and now he's dreaming. When he closed his eyes, he heard Julian and Kurt talking to him again. There was a noise in the background.

Metal clanging.

A rising roar.

And babbling. Voices.

_It's not me, it's you—_

_Actually, it's the taxidermy of you and me—_

_Untie the balloons from around my neck and ground me—_

_I'm just a racehorse on the track—_

_Send me back to the glue factory—_

_Always thought I'd float away—_

_And never come back—_

"Logan?" Kurt stared at Logan, who was staring into empty space. His pupils constricted a bit more. Kurt moved closer. "Hey!"

_But I've got enough miles on my card—_

_to fly the boys home on my own—_

_But you know me: I like being all alone—_

_And keeping you all alone—_

_And the charts are boring—_

_And the kids are snoring—_

_And the eagles in a sling—_

_You say you're not listening—_

That roar was getting louder. Logan closed his eyes tight and groaned. Julian panicked, holding his hand tightly. "Logan—!"

_And I said I'm wishing—_

_And I said...I said—_

Logan's eyes flew open. Everything had stilled. No one looked strange, just the same boys in uniform that he remembered. He was sitting in the Warblers' Hall couch and he could see everyone looking at him in concern. But no one was moving.

It was like someone had hit a pause button. Julian was leaning towards him, gripping his hand—Kurt was there, leaning close and staring wide-eyed at him. Blaine was next to Kurt, also looking at him, apprehensive. All the rest of the Warblers were gathered there.

Logan looked around, staring at them. Why was no one moving?

As soon as he thought this, they did begin to move—except Julian, who remained frozen in time. But they moved like they weren't really themselves. They were bouncing around in slow motion all around the hall, forming a circle that went around and around—like a caucus race.

…and that was when the music started.

_Have you ever wanted to disappear and join a monastery;_

_Go out and preach on Manic Street?_

_Where will I be when I wake up next to a stranger on a passenger plane?_

Logan blinked, staring at them all who were singing and dancing around him as they bounced on the furniture, singing in perfect chorus and doing stunts and backflips all over the place. Just bouncing around. Except…they were moving like they were moving like his usual self…everyone else was just in slow mo.

And normally they didn't tend to do that.

_Permanent jet lag; please take me back—_

_Please take be back_

_I'm straight toxic_

_Please let me in; please let me in_

_In that case trip in;_

_Singing vows before we exchange smoke rings—_

The Warblers leapt together, singing at the top of their lungs in chorus, as Logan sat there staring at them and wondering if he was awake yet. When the Warblers jumped or did some kind of trick, they floated. They hung slow in the air before landing and then returning to normal speed.

It was like watching a video with someone playing with the speed settings.

_Damn_, did his head hurt.

_Give me a pen; Call me Mr. Benzedrine_

_But don't let the doctor in; I wanna blow off steam and_

_Call me Mr. Benzedrine; But don't let the doctor,_

_Don't let the doctor in—_

He could see Blaine, and Kurt, and Wes, and David, and the Twins all in the chorus, taking the lead as they ran around him, climbing and diving down the furniture, almost ignoring him as he sat there, mildly fascinated. Confetti was falling.

_It feels like fourteen karats but no clarity;_

_When I look at the man who would be king;_

_The man who would be king goes to the desert to sing war his dad rehearsed;_

_Came back with flags on coffins and said:_

"_We won, oh, we won!"_

Logan tilted his head a little, blinking in that way dreamers do when they were trying to make sense of what they were seeing. Because clearly…this was a little strange.

Maybe it had something to do with the bubbles flying everywhere. Where did they come from, actually? Probably where those playpen balls were falling from and bouncing up and down all over the room—moving as though in slow motion. It didn't seem to bother anyone else either. He sat listening as David backflipped right over his head.

_B-b-b-b-Benzedrine_

_my, my, my Benzedrine_

_my B-b-b-b-Benzedrine now…_

_Only one more thing and that is the rest of the proof is on the television, on the..._

The Warblers burst to action. They leapt out of their circle now, bouncing off the walls and going crazy—moving a lot more like he remembered them when they just broke out into song and dance in the middle of school hallways.

He saw Blaine leap on top of the table in front of him, singing with everything he had, twirling Kurt in a dance and Kurt leapt off the table to get caught by the Twins—and he was going up to him—

_Give me a pen; Call me Mr. Benzedrine_

_But don't let the doctor in; I wanna blow off steam and_

_Call me Mr. Benzedrine; But don't let the doctor,_

_Don't let the doctor in—_

"Logan!"

Eyes snapped open. Pupils dilated slightly. Haze cleared partially. Logan slumped forward and coughed, dazed and nauseated. "Oh…god, what…? Kurt…?"

Kurt exhaled from where he was staring at him. Sign of life at last. That really was a relief. "Oh god, finally. Hey. You're not doing so great, so Julian's going to take you back to Stuart House. Okay?"

"What…?" Logan asked, dizzy and still not quite himself. "I'm fine…I'm perfectly fine…" He started to get up. And then he smacked to the ground like a wet sheet. The Warblers gaped at him. He was clearly still out of it in spite of better responses.

Blaine very patiently grabbed his arm and helped him up. "You are not 'fine'." He felt Logan slip in his grasp and he nearly fell down with him.

"This isn't good," Kurt said, looking worried. "He can't go to Parents' Night like this."

"Boy, I'll say," David muttered, shaking his head. "Michelle Wright is coming to Parents' Night like she did last year. If she sees Logan like this, she might tell Mr. Wright that Logan's doing drugs now! They'll never believe he just took the wrong ones by mistake."

"How does that even _happen_?" Wes frowned.

Kurt's eyes immediately flicked to Julian, who turned white as a sheet. Julian shot him a desperate look to silence him as he grabbed Logan's arm and slung it over his shoulder to support him. "Whatever. I'm taking this egghead back to Stuart House before he does anything _too_ embarrassing for us all."

"We should've recorded him messing with you and Kurt," David laughed.

"Ha ha," Julian rolled his eyes and made sure he was securely supporting Logan with his shoulders. "This is why I _hate_ high school choirs…so juvenile."

"Hello, Kettle? This is the Pot speaking, I'd like my color back," Kurt raised an eyebrow.

"Don't knock it, Cheshire Cat—your friend's in this one," the Twins smirked, leaning against each other and watching with knowing fascination at the two Stuarts. Blaine stepped forward, looking worried. "We'll help take him back to the dorm, Julian. If you want, we can call the nurse—"

"No," Julian snapped back. He was glaring. "You know as well as I do what'll happen if I take him to the nurse. The nurse will call his family. What do you think Senator Wright is going to do to him if he finds out that he got himself this high while in school prior to a major event?"

They were a little startled by his vehemence and Blaine stepped back a little. "Julian, we're just trying to—"

"I know you are, okay?" Julian snapped. "But I don't _need_ you! I'll handle this!" And he left, taking Logan with him, the taller boy still as disoriented as ever.

Kurt watched the two go with misgivings. While nothing serious had happened yet, he thought everything was safe. And he had already told Justin to keep an eye on Adam. He thought he had done something. He had thought he had cleared up that problem in that end, even a little bit. Even if he had no proof, if the one threatening them was Adam, then he couldn't really act…not when the Hanovers are watching…and especially not tonight…

…right?

* * *

The afternoon wore on.

Dwight sat at the front steps, staring at a memory stick that he hated more than anything in the world right now. He didn't loathe inanimate objects but right now he loathed it so terribly that if he didn't need it so much, he'd break it into two. He had just come from Han's room, and had received it from him. Now, by all accounts, he may have had delusions of how much he had the situation under control. He thought that Han could get him the proof that he needed.

When Dwight went upstairs to see Han, the first thing that the computer nerd did was make sure to keep Dwight did not bring and salt or holy water into his room. After that last incident, it only meant trouble and Han had to replace lots of ruined pieces of technology.

And then he showed him the video.

The bug, of course, was something of Han's own creation made with the help of Drew and Satoru. The one that looked out at the front of Stuart House was situated in a high location and had been exposed to the elements. The video it took had no sound, and wasn't clear. But it saw stuff, and that was what was important.

The night that Dwight was looking for, the one when Kurt ran out, had managed to capture a blurry shot of Kurt running around Stuart House in a mild panic. They both recognized the pajamas and the immaculate hair—yes that was definitely Kurt. And then later, Dwight appeared in his rumpled best, and after a brief squabble, both he and Kurt went offscreen.

And then Han rewound it back.

Dwight stood there and watched as a figure in what looked to be casual clothes stood at the grass around Stuart House, looking up at one of the windows, hands to his pockets. A tall boy, hands to his pockets—and his pale hair caught the light from the lamps around school. He was standing there in the complete stillness, just staring up at one of the windows. He didn't turn around, and even if he had, there was no way to zoom in and make the image clear.

And then as the time approached to when Kurt would appear onscreen, the figure seemed to turn—no haste, no alarm—and just strolled off like someone in a park. Moments later, Kurt showed up to what looked like empty grounds.

Han had given Dwight the video on that memory stick that he was holding now. And Dwight hated it with a passion. It gave him only half of what he wanted. It proved that there _was_ someone wandering the grounds that night. And that the person was male.

But then? Nothing else. No clear view of whoever it was, and because the person wasn't "sneaking around", it could very well just be a student who was walking around a little late. It could have been _anyone_.

And that was why Dwight hated the video.

"Dwight!"

The hunter looked up. Laura Bancroft was approaching, dressed in her color-blind best. Normally Dwight would've made some kind of snarky comment that would do the fashionistas proud, but he saw that it wasn't a laughing matter today.

"Dwight…" Laura was panting, leaning her hands on her knees as she reached him. She looked pale. "Did you find anything?"

Dwight told her what he'd found. He gave her the memory stick. She took it, listened to what he said, and shook her head. "Do you think it's enough for me to convince Justin to evac the dorm?"

"Why? What happened in the dorm?" Dwight asked, getting up.

Laura looked afraid.

Merril had gone up to Adam's room and knocked on the door, trying to ask if he wanted to join the others for a pre-Parents' Night pep talk with Justin downstairs. When there was no answer, she made the mistake of turning the doorknob to find it open. But before she could push it open, Adam materialized next to her, demanding to know what she thought she was doing.

Laura explained that Merril told her that while outwardly he looked calm, the way he looked at her was absolutely furious. So much that Merril backed away immediately, apologizing. But he just kept looking at her with a strange expression on his face.

When Merril got scared, she went downstairs and told Justin what had happened. The Hanover prefect wasn't pleased, and neither was her boyfriend. Justin called Adam down and spoke to him. Adam only said that he didn't know what Merril was talking about—he was a little upset that someone just tried to enter his room so casually, sure, but he wasn't going to hurt her or anything.

While people naturally believed him, and Merril decided that she might have just been seeing things, it did at least plant the idea that there was definitely something off with the new boy. Laura decided she'd had enough. One way or another, they were going to have to get in that room.

Dwight paced and gestured around a moment and said, "We're going to have to break in. We already know that he fits the bill of the guy in the video."

"I can help," Laura nodded. "I know where is room is. It's in the third floor."

"Okay, then. I have a plan." Dwight brushed his hands off. "Somehow, the dorm has to be evacuated. You have to convince Justin to empty that dorm. I don't know what you have to do. Then we go in."

Laura looked lost in thought. "Well…doesn't everybody leave the dorms this afternoon, though? For first assembly before the parents start arriving?"

"Think we can manage to go in then?" Laura asked.

"I'm guessing," Dwight sighed. "I can't believe I'm finally breaking into Hanover House, I've always wanted to see what it looked like from the inside…"

"A whole lot of marble," Laura grumbled.

"I bet it's completely haunted. With some serious ecto."

"The only thing they've got in there are secretive people and apparently a deranged stalker." Laura rolled her eyes. "Look, they're calling for the House meetings now. They'll all have to be there, so you can be sure that Adam is there, so make sure he's gone later when everyone leaves for school assembly. I'll meet you around the House when the dorm is empty. Then we go in. We're going to find out who that guy is."

* * *

_(Windsor House Meeting. Late afternoon, Hell Night.)_

When Windsor arrived back at their dorm, the first thing they saw was Shane sitting in the common room with Reed asleep on his shoulder. Their hands were laced together. When Shane looked up to look at his brother, all he did was smile and nod. And that was all he needed to say.

The Windsor stared for a moment—and then exploded into screams and applause, effectively waking Reed with a jolt as the boys swarmed over them, clapping their hands on their shoulders.

"What happened?" Reed gasped as the Twins grabbed him and hugged him happily.

"You finally _finally_ got it together, little Anderson!" Wes crowed, clapping Shane's shoulders with a grin. Shane burst out laughing and said, "When you say 'little', do you mean me or Blaine?"

"Ha ha, very funny," Blaine made a face at him as the others laughed.

Kurt came up to Reed, smirking and his roommate immediately turned crimson. "So… I think someone finally made a jump…"

"Oh Kurt, please don't start," Reed begged, looking deeply embarrassed, and tightening around Shane's. "Really—I don't even know how it happened." Kurt raised an eyebrow, still smiling. Reed rolled his eyes and said, "Fine. I knew how it happened." A pause, and then he glanced at Shane, who was grinning at his brother, and then shook his head. "I know very well."

Kurt grinned and lightly put a hand on his shoulder. "You sure about this?"

"Pretty sure," Reed replied softly, smiling a little.

"Shane, the top of your head looks like it's going to come off," Blaine grinned at his brother, and Shane looked entirely too happy to care. But Blaine leaned a little closer and whispered to him, "Please tell me you have thought about a little more about what's going to happen with you and Dad tonight."

The smile was wiped clean from Shane's face. Blaine stared at him intently, eyes asking everything. It was one thing to confront their dad about Micah, but now that Reed is with him, he could be caught in the crossfire. And Reed wasn't exactly that…durable as opposed to other people.

Shane quickly looked at Reed, a little alarmed. The two fashionistas were still talking to one another, with Reed looking happier than they'd seen him in weeks, oblivious to the concern that the two Andersons were discussing. The younger brother turned to the older and exhaled. "I've got this. I really do."

"I'm here for you, all right?" Blaine told him. "Besides…" he also glanced to the two next to them, staring at Kurt for a long moment before looking back at his brother. "I'm not letting dad take this away from me either."

"You think…you think we'll be all right?" Shane whispered, looking worried. "I've decided this a while back…that I would tell dad everything but…it's a lot harder than it seemed at the time. Micah _and_ Reed are here. I…" Shane lowered his eyes. "And I…I still want our parents to love us, Blaine." He glanced at him. "After what happened with you and dad…how horrible things got at home… I started to doubt how well I was going handle it."

"I know," Blaine replied, putting a hand to his brother's back. "I know what you mean, Shane." He sighed. "…I want this to work as much as you do. I want dad to understand. As it is, the odds are terrible. The way they reacted to me…and then how they're going to react to you too…I don't want you to have to go through what I did."

Shane nodded, looking at his hands. "…I just want mom and dad to…understand. You know?"

"I know," Blaine said, with a small smile. "I've wanted that same thing for a long time. And it just…it seems really hard to get right about now. But whatever happens…I'm with you, okay? You don't have to do this alone. I'm right here."

Shane smiled faintly at him. "…thanks, Blaine." He paused for a moment, lost in thought. He glanced at the two boys that he and his brother loved, and then looked at his brother and said, "…I'm sorry for…for before, when—"

"Shane, you've apologized to me fifteen times," Blaine replied, smiling, patting his shoulder. "I've said the same thing every time. You don't have to apologize to me. It's not going to change this time."

The younger brother smiled a little, and tightened his hold on Reed's hand.

Charlie walked in with the last of the other boys and looked around the room. "Okay, okay, settle down! Settle down, one last round of reminders before I want everyone in assembly. Every last one of you!"

From next to Charlie, Han Westwood appeared in the flesh, sighing and looking very pale when wearing his school uniform. He sighed and trudged to the others. "You realize what I'm missing right now? People are _raiding_ as we speak."

"Oh stop complaining," Wes rolled his eyes as Charlie began to make a head count. "Your parents are awesome, we meet them every year and their awesomeness does not diminish."

"I can't wait to lay eyes on your parents, personally," said Kurt with a smirk at the Caterpillar. "I want to know what kind of parents they are to let you run amok on the internet twenty four hours a day."

"His parents are pretty cool," Reed said, grinning.

Charlie lowered the clipboard and frowned. "All right, where's Houston?"

"Probably off exorcising a school statue again," David remarked, and Charlie groaned. "Can someone _please _find that kid?"

"I'll do it," Kurt said, getting up. "I think he wanted to talk to me anyway," he added, remembering how Dwight had urgently gestured to get his attention yesterday. He hadn't been able to find the hunter all night during the party. But apparently he had taken to wandering around Stuart House because he was unceremoniously returned near the end by a couple of annoyed Stuart boys who claimed that he was drawing sigils on the house again.

"When you find him, get back here quick, I just have important reminders to tell you guys before we go out there guns blazing," Charlie explained.

Kurt nodded to Blaine who looked like he wanted to go after him, but the diva only shook his head and made him sit back down. Blaine really didn't look pleased—he wanted to talk to Kurt about why he seemed to be so rattled all day but so far Kurt hadn't told him anything.

And he had his reasons. It was a long story to tell—and everything so far could be termed delusional. And if it was true… getting Blaine involved could potentially put him in danger. Especially after what he saw happen to Logan. Clearly, someone was on the warpath. Until he was sure, Kurt wasn't telling anyone.

Kurt stepped out of Windsor, down the stairs and onto the grass, and looked around in apprehension, wondering if Dwight was wandering the grounds. He pulled out his phone and was about to call the younger boy when he thought he heard a rustle in the bushes.

He froze as he turned. Was someone watching? "Dwight?" he walked to the bushes carefully. It looked like there might be something there—or someone. Kurt immediately frowned, wondering the hunter was in the bushes hunting things again. "Dwight, this isn't funny." He went to the bushes and reached out. "Dwight—"

"Kurt!" there was a tug on his arm that nearly yanked it out of its socket and Dwight was behind him, pulling him back towards Windsor. "Hey, right here, let's go! Can't be late for the meeting!" He sounded out of breath and panicked.

Kurt stared at him and pulled his arm back, annoyed. "Let go of me—where did you come from?"

"Don't you ever watch horror movies?" Dwight hissed as they went up the stairs. "The person who does that kind of thing gets _stabbed_."

"Where have you _been_?" Kurt hissed.

"I have to talk to you about Adam and how big a trouble you are in…" Dwight responded as the front door slammed.

Adam tilted his head a little and watched the two vanish into Windsor. So, as usual, he was right. Kurt _did_ have something to do with this mess and he was already intervening. And he was working with Dwight. That's excellent, really…it would be a lot easier if he got both Windsors simultaneously.

He wasn't particularly worried about what would happen after tonight. By the time tonight was over, all the people in the way would be removed, and he and Julian would be long gone, leaving this terrible school forever. And then…who knew?

He smiled to himself and then glanced to the direction of Stuart House.

They should be enjoying having a wonderfully calm and cooperative Prefect today. And with that, he walked back to Hanover.

* * *

_(Stuart House Meeting, Hell Night.)_

There really wasn't much of a meeting. It was more the Stuarts panicking as they tried to bring their prefect back to his senses. After this meeting, everyone was supposed to be out of there, and there was definitely going to be quite a problem when all the Stuarts materialize for assembly without their prefect present.

Or worse—their prefect was present, and spouting nonsensical lines.

"Maybe we should give him some coffee," Cy suggested, blinking at Logan who sat in the middle of the common room with about as much use as an ornamental rock. "It might wake him up."

"Yeah, some really strong coffee," agreed Thaddeus.

"Yeah, coffee always works," Nick nodded. There was a chorus of agreement from all around.

Derek dragged a hand down his face, with a deep, frustrated sigh. For a House that prides itself on being intellectuals, they were really having a hard time figuring out how to get Logan out of this funk as soon as possible.

The prefect in question was unhelpfully staring at bright points of light and being only marginally responsive. "This isn't going to make it," Derek said, looking worried. "It's not going to wear off before the parents get here that's for damn sure. Worst case, we're going to have to tell Michelle that Logan's not feeling all that well. But knowing her, she'd run to him to look after him."

"Oh man, Logan's stepmom is totally hot," Marcus sighed, remembering last year—and promptly received punches on the arm by the other incredulous Stuarts. "Dude…" Lawrence rolled his eyes in disgust.

"What?" Marcus stared at them, arms open. "You guys aren't telling me that his stepmom isn't smoking, okay? Not like you guys didn't also stare when she walked up in that red outfit last year."

"Dude, first of all, that's messed up. Two, Logan is going to rip you a new one if he hears you saying that to his face," Bailey raised an eyebrow.

"First of all, his stepmom's like, twenty-seven and she looks like Katherine Heigl. Second of all, he can't even hear any of us."

This was true. Derek tried to get his friend's attention again he shook his shoulders. "Logan?" Derek waved a hand in front of his face. "Logan, are you listening?"

The prefect closed his eyes momentarily, looking completely, utterly, gone. "…yeah."

"What was the last thing I said?"

"…Good morning."

Derek clenched his fists in frustration, the Stuarts in the common room looking horrified as they realized that more than usual, there was just no getting through to their leader. "We are so _dead_! Who the hell did this to him?"

Julian decided it was prudent to not speak up on this question. And maybe Derek managed to put two and two together on his own and just decided to say it for the sake of theatrics. Bailey was studying the pill bottle in concern. "How many did he take?"

"Forget that!" Julian glared as he looked at the completely disoriented blond on the chair and feeling a little desperate. "What did they give him? And how long does it last?"

Bailey glanced out the windows. "I think the teachers are coming out. House Heads would be heading for us any minute. What do we tell Murdoch?"

"Nothing!" Derek retorted. He turned to them all, glaring. "_I_'_ll _act as prefect and take over duties in the meantime."

"That's wonderful," Julian said sarcastically. "What do we say when the teachers ask about Logan? They all expect him after all the stuff he does for the Warblers and prefect duties and he meets them all! He just _met_ them all."

"I'd hate to say this," said Bailey, "but you're going to need Windsor's help."

There was a burst of protests from the other Stuarts, who looked indignant. "What? Why? Why the hell would we need Windsor?"

"Because," Bailey sighed, "Windsor is the only House that can run enough interference. The Twins used to be his friends, I think. They could keep everyone from wondering—_especially_ the teachers, who _just saw him earlier_. He was perfectly fine then and suddenly he's _sick_? No way that's going to fly, especially with Murdoch, Ramsey, Harvey and Medel. If we get Windsor to make enough of a ruckus, they won't be thinking about the missing prefect too much."

"They'd never do it for us," Thaddeus shook his head. "We all hate each other too much. You remember what they did to our doors and windows? And that _goat_?"

"No, they won't, but Kurt and Blaine could get them to," Julian replied, glancing at them. "And the Twins. Those guys could get Windsor to do anything. And they all tolerate Logan enough. If we're lucky, we might get Charlie on board but that's a long shot."

"We just need them to throw up some smokescreens for a little while—hopefully by then, Logan would be back to his senses," Derek nodded.

Julian suddenly smirked at Derek just as the bell that called for assembly in the grounds rang out from South and Main, heard all over the school. "Which means _you_ have to tell them that they have to distract Michelle Wright. Who is probably going to want to see "her baby" the moment she hears that he's not quite himself." He shrugged. "Or you do it yourself."

"That may not be so bad," Derek grinned.

Marcus blinked. "Whoa, wait, can the rest of us do that?"

Derek smacked the back of Marcus' head and pointed out the door. "All of you out! Go on! To assembly! We'll get back to this problem later. Julian, you stay in this dormitory and keep an eye on Hazy over here."

"_What_?"

"Your parents aren't coming, right?" Derek replied.

"Hello, I'm Julian Larson and I'm the resident celebrity. _Everyone_ will be looking out for me," Julian snapped. "And I don't see why I have to be the one to babysit this—this squid!"

And then Derek grabbed his arm and pulled him a little closer, hissing in his ear, "You ever think that the reason Logan is currently _sitting there_ with sludge for brains right now is because _you_ refuse to take action with this problem you have? Julian, our friend could've _died_ if it had been worse drugs. If it had been freaking _cyanide_, I wouldn't have been surprised. We are lucky he's even still breathing. You _sit here_ and take care of him and get some measure of responsibility for this." He glared at his friend, who had lost all color on his face. It was harsh, but true. Julian fell silent, lowering his eyes.

Derek then looked at Bailey. "Tipton, you stay here too. Your folks aren't coming?"

"Their personal assistant is, or…something," Bailey remarked, shrugging a little. "Yeah, I'll stay," he added, giving Derek a nod that told him that yes, he would help keep an eye on Julian and Logan given the problem they had at present.

"It's just a short while, just for assembly and just when the parents are arriving and mingling with each other. When the program starts, I'll come back to check on you guys later to see if Logan is…conscious." Derek glanced at them. Julian nodded to him, suddenly silent. Derek felt a pang of remorse, but there was nothing he could do. He didn't want to tell Julian that another reason that he wanted him out of the crowd was because all the boys of the school would likely be there. Including whoever was helping his stalker. For all he knew, with all the families who come, she might actually get in now.

The less he was visible, the better.

Hopefully…someone doesn't come knocking on Stuart House.

* * *

_(Hanover House Meeting, Hell Night)_

There was no hilarity in Hanover House. Everyone had been present at the meeting where Justin efficiently gave out his reminders and all the things they needed to remember. Everyone had things to do, people to attend to. Everyone was present, including Adam who only came a little late to the meeting. But the meeting went cleanly and efficiently, and everyone had a little time to themselves for now.

Right before the bell for assembly, Justin, Danny, Spencer, Merril, and little Laura Bancroft stayed in Justin's room for private caucus.

When Justin returned to have the House Meeting, Laura had come running to him, just like Dwight told her to do. She had tried to tell him one more time about Adam. She told him how she followed him around, about the video, and how it sounds insane, but if there was any reason to suspect that it might be him, they still had to check it out just in case they were right.

Dwight had given Laura the copy, so they had seen that video and couldn't deny that the boy there did look like Adam. But it couldn't be confirmed just yet. But it _did_ make everyone nervous. And while Justin didn't approve of his sister just spying around like she owned the place, he couldn't deny that she was finding pieces that tied together. Especially since he didn't even _tell_ her that Kurt Hummel basically confirmed that there was someone sending threatening messages to the actor.

Justin had his hands pressed together, contemplative. He looked at his sister intently, and then to Danny and Spencer standing on either side of her, looking white in the face and worried. Merril stood nearby, fretting and wringing her hands.

"Do something, Justin, please," Laura begged. "Look in his room. Follow him around—anything. I don't trust him! Even if he doesn't really mean any harm, which I seriously doubt, shouldn't you be dealing with this since he's one of yours?"

Silence. Merril wrung her hands again, face grave. "Justin, I'm going to have to go with your sister here. There's something wrong. There's something really really wrong!" She didn't want to say it out loud but everyone thought it—that missing knife in the block could be somewhere in that room.

"Let us clear out the dorm," Spencer hissed, not liking the conversation. "Come on, clear the dorm, say there's a gas leak or something and then let's break in!"

Finally, Justin stood. He looked at them all, staring at him and waiting for a decision. The prefect always had the final word in Hanover. Justin seemed to consider everything.

And then he spoke. "Right now, we can't do anything. It's already Parents' Night. We can't start a panic in this school when all of the families are here, especially if we're wrong. I know, Laura," he said to the girl who looked like she was about to protest. "But if we're wrong, we all take a huge fall for this and we could ruin Adam unnecessarily. I know, I don't like this any more than you guys do, but I have to think of everyone and I can't make any rash movements. I propose we go to assembly, meet with all the parents, and then wait until everyone is distracted by the programs and performances. _Then_ we can look in the room. Spencer, you have the key." The other boy nodded and held it up a moment before putting it in his pocket.

Then he looked at Danny. "Follow him. Keep an eye on him during the cocktails when all the parents are milling about. If you can, keep him from going back to the dorm."

To the other two, he said, "Merril, Spence, come with me. We'll finish all the important things in the assembly and when the parents arrive. Then you both come with me to look in his room."

He turned to his sister. "Laura, you're to go to Charlie. I don't want you in this dorm when it all comes down. Because in the chance that he _is_ that kind of person we all hope he's not…he'd be armed, and things would get ugly fast."

The bell for assembly rang and everyone looked up. Laura's heart dropped to her toes. Time was up. It was time to go. And yet she felt that if they didn't act and act soon, it would be too late.

One thing was certain, she decided as she joined the group in leaving the room. She and Dwight will have to take matters into their own hands. And as they all crowded, heading outside, she saw Spencer staring at Adam who was placidly listening to something a boy named Nicholas was saying. He was distracted.

She stood by his pocket, and with careful hands that would've made the old Justin proud, she lifted the key from him.

If no one was going to do anything…she would just have to take matters into her own hands.

* * *

**Episode 26 (Part Three)**

**Hell Night**

* * *

_**TRIGGER WARNING **for **blood, violent acts and images,** and the behavior that revolves around this theme. If you are**not** comfortable with these types of scenes and images, I strongly urge you **NOT TO**** CONTINUE.**_

* * *

_(Parents' Night)_

With all of the boys with certain eccentricities in the school, it couldn't be helped that a new boy, like Kurt, would be curious to see what their families would be like. Certainly the crazy fruit didn't fall _that_ far from the tree. He was pretty sure that the Twins must've hit every crazy branch down the tree before landing. While he stood in the grounds, assembled with the other boys of Windsor, he tried to look to the direction of the front gate and see if his own father and stepmother had arrived. He had asked them if Finn was coming along—some parents brought a sibling along to watch the performances—but Finn had declined in favor of glee practice, since regionals was fast approaching.

Kurt almost groaned when he remembered that after this mess, Regionals was also in the Warblers' plate, and that they had also better get cracking on it.

Right now, none of the students could focus on anything else even as the Headmaster started to deliver an announcement to them all from where he stood with the teachers at the top of the courtyard steps. The school gates sat open at the moment, and cars were already pulling in, mostly from the parents of the day students. The students were gathered in the grounds, especially the boarders, to welcome their parents in. Some of the boys were particularly looking forward to this, especially those who live a great distance from their families.

Wes was fidgeting so much that he kept trying to straighten his tie. David put up with this for about ten minutes before he grabbed the tie and yanked the knot up so tight that Wes practically choked. "What's with you?" David demanded incredulously. "Cut it out! It's going to be all right. Why are you so nervous?"

"I can't _help_ it!" Wes protested with a cough as he pulled the knot back down. "My parents have never come to school events before!"

"But you just kept telling me that they don't like to draw attention to themselves."

Wes grumbled, "They don't like drawing attention to themselves…and me."

"Why?"

"Okay look," Wes now looked at his best friend. "Whatever happens, do _not_ freak out. I have it under control."

"If you say so…" David said doubtfully, still wondering if his friend had gone a little further down the deep end.

Kurt looked up when Blaine closed his hand over his and smiled. "Hey, your parents here yet?"

"Not yet," Kurt replied, smiling. "I don't think it'll be much of a surprise for them, though. They've met all of you. They're looking forward to mainly the entire program, apparently."

"So did you end up dressing them after all?" Blaine grinned.

Kurt groaned like someone who had suffered through a plague. "I tried my best, but dad drew the line on the dinner jacket. Carole was more compliant."

Reed laughed shakily from next to him. "Well I'm glad I don't have that kind of problem." He was biting his nails so much that when Shane saw blood, he swatted the hands away from Reed's mouth. "Stop…" he scolded lightly, staring at him in concern. "You're going to be fine; it's just your mother coming, right?"

Reed gave his newly christened whatever-he-was-that-wasn't-a-friend-but-actually-hadn't-clarified-if-he-was-a-boyfriend a deadpan expression. "…I'm sorry, have you _met_ my mother?"

"What about your parents," Kurt remarked to Blaine, looking at him and trying to see how his nerves were doing. But if the way Blaine was gripping his hand is any indication, he wasn't doing so well. He had never seen his boyfriend look so anxious before.

Blaine glanced at him and gave him a quick, tight smile that was meant to reassure him. "Yeah. I can handle this. I've got this. It's all under control, it's all fine." A pause. "…are you sure you don't want to just skip all this and just let me—"

"Your parents wanted to meet me, and meet me they will," Kurt replied. He looked at him intently. "Right now, I don't care what your dad will say. What he did to you was wrong." When he closed his eyes he could almost see that scene: Shane hiding in the kitchen, Blaine flying into the gun case, being backhanded by his father, and so many tears, the sharp contrast to how tenderly Burt had treated Kurt when he finally had the courage to tell him he was gay. "He shouldn't have hurt you the way he did. He's your father, and you're his son. And he should know how wonderful you are no matter what your…label is." He rolled his eyes a little.

"If he thinks he's going to stop me from being with you…" Blaine shook his head but kept looking at Kurt intently, "…he's got another thing coming. We both waited too long for this. I'm not letting him take this happiness away from me. From the both of us. We've had enough."

Kurt smiled a little and nodded. "Then we're in this together."

Blaine nodded, squeezing his hand. Kurt glanced to the two boys next to him. "How about you, Shane? You look like you're cold; you're shaking."

"What are you talking about?"

"I've been trained by Coach Sylvester—I can acutely detect the scent of fear." Kurt raised an eyebrow. "And feed on it."

Shane winced. "I…may be just a little bit anxious."

Blaine stared at the lack of color on his brother's face. "Shane, if you're not ready, you shouldn't just—"

"Hey, you weren't ready when _you_ came out," Shane retorted. "If you can do it, so can I." He was holding Reed's hand so tightly that the shorter boy started to squirm a little. "Besides. I have someone important to fight for right now and I'm not ashamed of it."

"This ready-fire-aim style of yours is going to get you into trouble…" Reed grumbled, peeling his fingers from Shane's grip. "I need these to paint, please and thank you…"

"Sorry." Shane looked embarrassed as he looked around. "Aah, I shouldn't be this nervous, really… I'm telling my parents the truth and the whole truth and confront them about what they did to Micah—"

"How _is_ Micah anyway?" Blaine suddenly asked. In all this excitement about Shane and Reed finally getting their act together, they had overlooked the quiet reader. "I haven't heard from him or Becca and Erin all day. How did he take all this?"

"You can ask him yourself…" came a quiet voice behind them as Micah approached, smiling faintly. "He's right here."

Kurt stared at him with a short laugh. "What are you doing here?"

"I asked him to come," Reed replied, smiling. "I thought Shane could use the support," he added, as the taller boy nodded a greeting to Kurt and Blaine.

Shane turned scarlet at the sight of Micah, who just smiled faintly as he adjusted his glasses a little. The reader told the little artist, "Glad to see you took my advice, Reed…"

"Well this is me returning the favor," Reed answered, smiling up at him. "You said you always thought you could've said something to Shane and Blaine's father. Well…" he nodded over to the approaching cars. "When they get here, you'll get your chance too. We'll both stay."

Micah looked a little unsure and glanced at Shane who also didn't look completely confident on that part. Reed remained oblivious as the two of them managed to somehow get a message across merely by staring at each other, in the way that friends did after knowing the other so well. Micah took Shane's elbow and said, "Excuse me, Reed—I just need a word with him for a minute."

Reed blinked, not noticing anything, and just shook out his still-smarting hand after Shane's grip. "Okay, sure."

"Hey—!" Shane protested as Micah pulled him along and said to Blaine, "Would you join us for a second, Blaine?"

Kurt smirked at Blaine who looked at him apologetically before going with them as Kurt moved up to Reed and swatted his friend's hand away from his mouth again.

From a short way off, Micah looked down at Shane, eyes soft from behind the glasses. "You can do it. You can tell him."

"I don't want him to hurt—"

"It's not going to happen again, Shane," Micah replied, putting his hand on Shane's shoulder. "That was then. We were scared. We're not scared anymore. You have to fight for this if you really want it."

"But Reed, he's…he's not like you, all right? He doesn't have what you—"

"Then he'll have to be. He'll have to be strong and take it."

"It shouldn't be him at all. It's me. I'm the one who has to deal with this."

"It's never just you," Blaine responded simply. "You don't have to do this alone. You're not alone, we're right here with you, do you understand?" He exhaled and put a hand on his brother's shoulder. "I know you want to do something, and you think you have to do it by yourself. I know that you blamed yourself a lot for what happened before and you've never really stopped. This was never your fault, Shane. Or…if anything…it wasn't you who did it all. You forget that we chose our way of dealing with it too. That we were all just doing what we thought was best at the time."

"Look…" Micah said, looking intently at him. "We lost our chance, Shane. And I can accept that. But I can't accept you still thinking to this day that it's all your doing. …I haven't seen you this happy in…" he stopped and laughed softly, "…ever. If you want to fight…we're here to back you up. Okay…?" He looked at Blaine too. "All of us. We have to settle this thing that happened to the three of us. We were the only ones left. …we have to stick together."

"Not quite the only ones…" Blaine replied, smiling a little as he glanced back to where Kurt and Reed stood, Kurt straightening Reed's tie and trying to fix the pin on his lapel. "We're lucky enough to find our way to people who understand us."

"Aaand here comes trouble," Wes said from a way off as he saw some of the parents that they recognized. The boarding boys now looked up as their parents began to arrive. Mothers and fathers descended upon their boys, hugging them or chastising them depending on their relationship.

The other good thing about Parents' Night are those moments that, if you were the one involved, you totally loathed, but if it happened to someone else, you had to laugh.

A tall, hardy man with a streak of gray in his dark hair and looking very friendly walked up to the Windsor boys, with his pretty light-haired wife digging through her purse for something. He seemed to look around for a moment, then found his son, who he clapped so hard on the back that he was nearly sent sprawling, coughing. "Hey there, Jolly Roger!"

While struggling through the coughs, Charlie looked like he wanted the earth to open up and eat him alive. He clutched at his brows. "Oh my g—" He turned to his father and stared at him with wide eyes. "_Charlie_. I don't care if you want to call me Charles or whatever, just _please_, just stick to the Charlie."

Mr. Amos looked perplexed. "What the hell's wrong with Roger? When you were little—and that pirate ship—"

Charlie flailed at his father as the Windsors started to grin with an evil glint in their eyes, guaranteeing to their prefect that he will _never_ live this down. "Please—just—stick with the Charlie."

"Hey, Mr. A!" The Twins grinned happily, materializing next to their prefect who visibly _winced_ at how suddenly happy they looked.

"Hello, boys!" replied the man, smiling. "Still making things rough for my boy, eh?"

"Please don't encourage them, dad, _please…_"

"Oh we're definitely taking good care of Jolly Roger here," the Twins grinned brightly as Charlie groaned, horrified.

"Charles, look at you…" his mother now spoke up, tutting as she tried to smooth down his lapels and fix his pin. "You really have to take better care of yourself, dear—"

"Mom, I'm fine," Charlie protested as she tried to comb his hair now.

"Oh so Charlie has that kind of a family?" Kurt smirked as Charlie's father continued to chuckle good-humoredly with the twins as his mother continued to fuss over him, making Charlie look supremely uncomfortable.

"Holy _crap_!" came a gutshot tone from the Stuart House contingent as soon as a black Range Rover pulled up. Derek was staring in horror. "They're early, why are they _early_?"

"Be a man, dude!" Nick hissed at him, trying to push him forward. "You can do this, you're fine!"

"They're gonna see my grades and they're going to hurt me."

"Your grades are _perfect_, now get up!" Thaddeus snapped, dragging the "acting" prefect along.

"What are they going to say if they find out that that my GPA is at a standstill instead of going up?"

"Derek, you're being ridiculous." The Stuarts grabbed him and all but _threw_ him towards the stately man and woman who emerged from the vehicle, looking around at the lights. It was only in times like these when they actually _see_ Derek more flustered than when he was being chased by four girlfriends at the same time.

As soon as he was out in the open, Derek hastily shed his anxious personae and pulled himself up to face his parents, while still looking white in the face. "Mom. Dad."

Mr. Ernest Siegerson nodded at his son and sighed around at the school, looking a little bit nostalgic and at the same time as though he couldn't bear to breathe its air again. "How are you doing at school?"

"It's what you're here to find out, right?" Derek replied coolly.

"Derek," Mrs. Siegerson looked at him disapprovingly. Then she added, "And where are your friends…?"

_One is high, the other is babysitting…_ "They must be off to see their own parents."

"Fine, fine…" Mrs. Siegerson dusted some invisible lint off the sleeve of her linen blazer and said to her son, "You're doing well, I hope?"

"Keeping your grades up, and keeping up with sports?" Mr. Siegerson asked his son. "Any scouts come to you yet about scholarship?"

Derek remained rooted to the spot. "Yes, I kept my grades up, but…no, no scholarship yet."

Mr. Siegerson's brows jumped just slightly, abut he just glanced away with another sigh as though he expected it. "That's too bad…"

"Derek, you should focus a little more on your academics, you spend too much time just…hanging out…" Mrs. Siegerson said in the tone of someone who was partially distracted as she looked at her phone for any messages from work.

The Stuarts looked uncomfortable at this grilling and tried to busy themselves by looking as though they weren't listening. This was broken when a bright cry of happiness rang out from Hanover side.

Kurt looked up when he saw a man and a woman were running quickly to the Hanover boys, looking tearfully happy. From their ranks broke Merril—who _did_ look a little odd wearing the Dalton uniform, with her hair still long and over her shoulders—and she all but practically jumped at them. "Hi Uncle Simon, Aunt Patty!" she said, looking very happy and tearful.

Kurt smiled, and he felt a little warmed by the scene. So it looked like he wasn't the only one who had truly supportive family. Merril had to be one of the more different students at Dalton, but she was one of the ones who were received so lovingly. He watched as Spencer smiled, walking up to the aunt and uncle, and they all chatted amiably, shaking hands with the tall boy.

Kurt suddenly felt a warm hand on his shoulder and he turned around to see his father beaming down at him. "Hey, Kurt!"

It wasn't like he hadn't seen Burt for a long time. He did come home on the weekends, and sometimes even when it wasn't (Windsors were apparently still having difficulty understanding what a curfew actually meant). But for some reason, tonight, when all of the boys' parents were coming around and greeting them each in their own ways, Kurt's heart swelled at the sight of his father looking kind, warm and welcoming, and realizing in that moment just how much he missed being home.

Burt laughed at the sudden hug that Kurt gave him. "Well, I missed you too…"

Kurt grinned, shrugging a little as he looked up at his father, feeling very glad to see him. "I couldn't help it. I'm just glad you're here."

"You doing okay?" Burt asked as Carole took her turn in giving her stepson a big hug. Kurt returned Carole's hug and smiled up at his dad.

"Yeah, doing fine," he breathed, smiling. "How are things back home?"

"As well as can be expected," Burt replied, smiling. "You know those friends of yours from McKinley really miss you. When Finn has them over they tell us that a lot. Ask about you a lot."

Kurt blinked, a little surprised, and then laughed softly. "They act like I don't talk to them all the time through text."

"Well, seeing you in person is different," his father replied with a knowing smile. Kurt nodded, making a mental note to schedule a day out with Mercedes and Rachel in the near future.

"Hey, Mr. Hummel," Blaine piped up, coming up next to Kurt and shaking hands with Burt.

"Hello, Blaine," Burt replied, beaming down at his son's boyfriend. "You taking care of my boy? Not, that he needs it…" he added when Kurt gave him a rather indignant frown.

"I try, but we do live in a madhouse," Blaine replied, grinning.

"Are your parents coming too, Blaine?" Carole asked pleasantly.

Blaine's smiled faltered a little and he replied, "They're—yes, they're coming too, they're on their way." He looked at Kurt, and his boyfriend game him a charming smile. For a moment, Blaine stared.

_My heart stops when I look at you…_

He felt better instantly as he smiled back at him with a small nod. Kurt nodded back a little, a mutual understanding that they now shared, and turned toward his parents again as they continued to ask him questions about tonight's program, his performance, and why those "nice boys" haven't visited in a while. While Kurt tried to deter them from inviting the crazy back to Lima, Blaine looked around to check about the other boys' parents. He knew Charlie was still getting swamped by his own parents, so he might need some help in that department.

To his amusement, he saw House Head Howard already talking to a pair of very interesting parents. There was a tall dark-haired man with a big friendly grin wearing a printed sweater made to look like the armor of a storm trooper. The lady next to him had curly red hair and was dressed in a flowing dress and there was a thin circle of gold around her head.

"But he's doing okay?" the man asked, looking amused.

"I still encourage him to get out more," Mr. Howard replied, looking rather perplexed.

"Hey mom! Dad!" Han hurried up to them with a big grin and the lady received him with a big embrace.

"There's our little Warrior," Mrs. Westwood said, looking very happy. Han peeled away from her a little before she could kiss his cheeks in public, and his father clapped him on the back, looking proud and grinning at the sight of the WoW pins on his blazer.

Han grinned up at his father, then turned to his mother. "Mom, why are you dressed up like Arwen?"

"I most certainly am not," she replied, but was grinning.

"You're wearing your Evenstar, mom."

Mrs. Westwood only giggled.

Kurt saw where Blaine was looking and grinned, finally realizing that Han's eccentricity gene was genetic. His parents looked about as culture-crazy as he was, so it didn't surprise him that they let him spend so much time in front of the computer. Or give him leeway to all that computer hardware for that matter.

"Hi, Mr. and Mrs. Hummel!" said Reed cheerfully, coming up to them with Shane. "I'm Reed. It's really nice to meet you at last!"

"Oh, so you're the little fashion-friend Kurt mentions," Carole said, giving him a hug and a big smile. "I think Kurt's wardrobe expanded considerably after you two came back from New York last Christmas."

Both Kurt and Reed laughed at that, and as Kurt explained how Reed's mother was a fashion editor, he looked up at the corner of his eye, just like everyone else, when someone came up the drive. He didn't have a car, he didn't have anything other than the clothes on his back, as it would appear, and he was neatly dressed—but all it took was for him to take off the sunglasses off to look around curiously and Kurt recognized him.

Clark Sawyer. The TV star.

Reed glanced up and jumped. "Oh, I'm—I'm so sorry, Mrs. Hummel!" he said hastily to Carole. "There's someone I need to get to! I'll be right back, I'm so sorry." And he hastily broke out of the crowd.

By now, the six-foot-five star was talking to Howard, and Reed ran to him. "Clark!"

There was a burst of laughter from the taller boy as soon as he spotted him. "Hey!" he said, giving him a quick hug and patted his shoulder heavily. Pleasantly surprised, Kurt looked at Blaine. "Did you know he was coming?"

"No, but he looks like the backup Reed needs for his mother," Blaine replied, smiling at how happy Reed looked to see the taller boy.

It was now that Shane chose to freak out. His hands tightened like a vise onto his brother's arm, nearly cutting off Blaine circulation entirely. "Blaine!" he stared, wide-eyed. "Whoisthat."

"Oh he still does that?" Micah asked, beaming.

"Yes…" Blaine winced, glowering at his brother. "You act like you don't watch TV. That's—"

"Iknowwhothatis! WhyishetalkingtoReedlikethat?"

"You're so unsettled…" Micah said, with a very amused smirk.

Shane grumbled. "…he's too tall for him. Like a big blond giant."

Blaine made to say something, but, true to form, Shane rushed forward ahead and zipped right up to where Reed was looking up at Clark. He at least hovered around the periphery for a moment, looking anxious and Reed caught sight of him bobbing at the edge of his field of vision and looked at him with a smile. "Hi, Shane."

"Hey," Clark said with a smile at the skinny little dancer and extended a hand. "It's nice to meet you."

"Hi, I'm Shane!" he said almost too loudly, shaking his hand attempting to give it a firm grip to show off his strength. Sadly, Clark was obviously stronger without trying. As it was, this was an incredible amount of self-restraint form the younger Anderson as Kurt, Blaine and Micah looked on with amused expressions, waiting for the shoe to drop. "Reed and I are really close! Like—really! Aren't we, Reed?"

Reed blinked at him, perplexed, and nodded a little to Clark. "Yes…"

Clark seemed to not notice Shane's attempt to draw himself to his full height so as to look more intimidating, and simply failed. Especially when Clark beamed and said, "I'm Clark. I'm Reed's stepbrother. Came to give him some moral support."

That floored Shane, jaw dropping. "…what?"

Blaine, Kurt and Micah snickered loudly from behind him, making him turn around to glare at them; they all gave him expectant, innocent smiles in response. He looked at Reed, who clearly didn't detect anything—probably just didn't know any better—and was just blinking at him. Shane immediately cracked a goofy grin. "Oh so he's your brother."

"Yes," Reed blinked. "Why?"

"Nothing!" Shane's grin was so big that he looked like his head would pop open like Pez dispenser. "Absolutely. I'm great. I'm fine."

Clark wasn't nearly as dense. He gave Shane a curious expression, and then one to Reed, who only blinked back at him. But Clark only smiled and said, "Is Hilde here yet?"

As Reed shook his head, Kurt looked up to see Wes—

—getting literally tackled to the ground by four squealing girls in very nice dresses.

"Wes!" the other boys chorused, running to him quickly, trying to get the girls off him. Wes was groaning but didn't look particularly alarmed.

"Guys—I mean, girls—you're _crushing my ribs_!" he choked.

"We're so sorry, Wessie!" The second tallest girl said, hastily getting up along with the rest of them as the boys grabbed Wes' arms and hauled him back to his feet. "We didn't mean to, we were just so happy to see you!"

Wes blanched immediately at the nickname. "Please don't do that."

"Do what, Wessie?" the oldest girl, who looked like she was well into college, was dusting Wes off in a rather motherly fashion.

"That, stop calling me that!" Wes protested, squirming from her grip. The two smaller girls hugged him like he was their teddy bear. One of them had to still be in grade school.

David, who really did truly enjoy seeing his friend flustered and floored like this—Wes usually called dibs on moments of badassery between them—draped an arm over his friend's shoulders before greeting the older two girls. "Hello Vicky, Romy," he said, nodding to them.

"Oh hi, David!" the older one, Vicky, replied. "Your parents not here yet?"

"No, but dad always delays before setting foot back here," David replied, smiling. "Honestly, he's the alumni, you'd think he wants to come back."

"Where are mom and dad?" Wes asked, looking a little apprehensive.

While it was one thing to consider that there really were just some siblings who didn't look like each other a whole lot—in Wes' case, he really didn't look like his sisters, unless you counted the fact that they were all dark-haired and had a beautiful olive tone in their skin—it was something of a surprise to find that he looked like neither of his parents either.

Mr. and Mrs. Hughes emerged from their large car and Mrs. Hughes was clearly the definition of a Mediterranean beauty. Both the second sister Romy and the littlest sister looked like her strikingly. Mr. Hughes was clearly from a similar origin, tall and a little broad, with his dark hair graying already as well. His eyes and stocky build were taken by Vicky, the eldest, and the second youngest girl.

Kurt, feeling rather surprised, looked at Wes, who, for some reason, now really did look a little bit like the odd one out among them. Wes wasn't looking at anyone or anything except for the ground for a moment, but he went to his parents.

Mrs. Hughes looked tearfully happy to see him and gave him a big hug. "I'm so glad you're doing well and are safe, sweetheart," she said, patting his cheek. "We miss you at home."

Mr. Hughes waited until his wife was done embracing Wes very tightly before he too gave him a quick tight hug and a heavy pat between the shoulder blades. He was much taller than his son. "Are you all right here? No one giving you any trouble we should know about?"

Wes blanched so fast that Kurt thought someone threw powder into his face. "I'm fine!" he said quickly, trying to alleviate a currently non-urgent worry. "Everything's great. Perfect, even. Haha…why did you suddenly decide to come?"

"Well…you've been performing all this time, we decided it would be good to come see you for once," Mr. Hughes said gruffly. "Victoria says that you seemed a little neglected."

"You don't think that, do you, Wes?" Mrs. Hughes said, concerned. "If you feel that way, you have to tell us—really, we can send Bobby over and pack up your stuff right away—"

"Mom, I'm fine!" Wes replied quickly, smiling a little and patting her arm. "Vicky's overreacting—I'm fine! I'm happy here. I have friends." He remembered David instantly and gestured for him to come forward.

David felt a little surprised now but he stepped up next to his friend. Mr. and Mrs. Hughes looked over him, looking curious. Wes said, "This is my best friend, David. I think I've mentioned him."

"We've heard a lot about you from Wes," Mrs. Hughes smiled, shaking his hand. "It's a pity we only meet now."

While she said this, Mr. Hughes studied David in a way that was familiar to many of the people watching—he was looking at him as though trying to immediately determine what kind of a person he was. However, there seemed to be nothing particularly off about David—not right now, anyway—and so he too smiled a little and gave him a firm handshake.

One of Wes' sisters, the smallest one, was holding a clutch purse. She was giggling with the one closest to her age, and pointing a little at the Twins, who were clowning and making faces at them. Kurt frowned at the Twins and was going to tell them to behave a little in front of the other parents (since Wes' parents had just met them all, he didn't want them to have to meet the Twins the way _his _parents had to), when the little girl giggled so much that she dropped her purse.

Kurt saw one of the big sturdy-looking men who came with Wes' parents (there were more than two, and they looked like bodyguards, keeping a watchful eye on the Hughes) go over and bend down to pick it up. And then Kurt's eyes widened to their fullest extent when he saw a flash of black metal at the man's belt.

Blaine felt his wrist get grabbed and he looked up to see just a quick flash of the gun before it vanished into the man's jacket again when he straightened up to give the little girl her bag. "Thanks, Bobby," she told him with a big smile.

Kurt and Blaine looked at each other, very startled. But if they thought _that_ was startling—

"Oooh, what is that?" Ethan suddenly said, materializing next to "Bobby" and pointing towards where the weapon was hidden. "We have those too, but different." He held up his brightly-colored nerf gun.

"Is that real?" Evan said, eyed wide from the other side, trying to get a look at the hidden weapon. "Is that a real gun, man?"

At the word, everyone near them looked up as Kurt's jaw dropped, giving the twins an expression that clearly demanded if they had lost their minds. Mr. Hughes frowned at Bobby, who looked startled and embarrassed, pulling up his jacket immediately—Wes looked white in the face—and Howard, who had overheard, came running. With him was Mr. Newman, the House Head of Hanover, and Justin.

"Move along, boys, don't linger about and wait for your parents," Howard scolded them slightly, trying to move the Twins off. The Twins stumbled back to the other conspirators, looking more curious than worried.

"Mr. Hughes!" Mr. Newman said in his usual even tone.

Wes' father looked a little irritated, but moved away with his worried-looking wife to speak to the teachers. "We've spoken about this before—this is a _school, _sir—" the boys heard the teachers say as Justin moved them away.

"Nothing to see here, lads," he told them. "Move along. Your parents should be getting here any second or you should be attending to them!"

"That guy had a gun!" Reed gasped up at the tall Hanover leader.

Justin dropped his face into his hand before looking up again to glower at the twins who looked expectant. By now only the conspirators remained not far from the Hughes', and Justin looked around to see if anyone was listening. He looked wide-eyed at Wes now.

Wes groaned and dragged a hand down his face. "Oh damn it."

"Gonna have to tell them sooner or later, Wessie," Justin smirked a little. "At least you know your mates can keep a secret." He patted them heavily on the shoulder before he walked off to try and find the Stuart prefect, who was clearly missing in action and not doing his duties.

"Don't call me that!" Wes flailed after him as the conspirators, except David, snickered. He grumbled and looked back at them.

"You've got bodyguards?" the twins asked, fascinated. "Your family? Dude, what does your family do?"

"I thought your parents owned restaurants!" David said, looking at his friend, confused and staring at him.

Kurt gave him a questioning glance. "And your mother looked primarily happy to have you "safe." Is there something we should know about?"

Everyone started talking all at the same time, alternating between worried and amused—none of them had any inkling about any of this and to see Wes so worked up about it was disconcerting.

Wes cringed and finally threw up his hands. "I've been adopted by the mafia, okay?"

There really was nothing like just saying it. Everyone stared at him as though he'd sprouted a third arm. "Excuse me…?" Blaine stared. David's mouth hung open, and he looked speechless. The Twins' eyes were very wide.

Wes sighed deeply and gestured to where the adults were talking, his sisters nearby. "…you…must have noticed that I don't actually look like them."

Everyone looked at each other. Wes turned back to them, rubbing his temple like he had a migraine. "I can't tell you much, mainly because I'm not allowed to, and second, there's not much time. It's a really long crime-lord related political story but what you need to know was that my dad was in a tight spot. He'd always wanted a son. And you saw that they tried four times and ended up with girls. And then trouble happened, because if he didn't have an heir, someone to pass the…uh…"business" to…someone else would take it."

Wes sighed, glancing to his father again. "But mainly…he really wanted a little boy to call his own. Not that he didn't love my sisters…but…you know some dads just do. And he in particular _needed_ one as much as he wanted one. People told dad to "adopt" a nephew or someone close to those involved to take over. But he didn't trust them. It was a sticky situation. A big power climb. He and mom did something that I don't think has been done before—he adopted me, when I was seven. I've been in the orphanage as long as I remember, I learned how to sing there and everything, and…I have nothing to remember my birth parents by anyway."

He smiled at his friends. "When mom and dad went to adopt one of the kids, I was so sure they wouldn't take me. I'd met with so many other parents, and they didn't take me. So you can imagine how surprised I was when they said that they were going to be my parents now. They love me very much—I'm actually pretty badly spoiled, you know, mom said they and my sisters were pretty crazy about me—but they were sure that they and I were in trouble."

"Why?" Kurt, who had been listening spellbound, asked.

"Because I wasn't…you know…really born to them." Wes looked down. "All I know is that some people got very upset. They threatened dad. But dad just told them that as far as he was concerned, he loved me as much as any child born to him and mom, and that I was going to take over our side of the family no matter what. I don't remember what happened, but they said that they heard someone was trying to…" he made a vague gesture. "deal with me." He exhaled. "They panicked. They didn't want me in harm's way. So they sent me away out of the state, here. To a boarding school a way off. So I'd be away most of the time and where no one would think of finding me."

Wes shrugged lightly. "But they spoke to Newman and Ramsey when I was brought here. No one knows anything about me except some of the boys at Hanover. It's also why they've never visited before. Vicky and Romy came to see me, but if the folks went, they thought it'd attract too much attention."

He sighed and opened his arms. "And that's the story. You don't have to believe me, but…" He looked up at them, and then his eyes rested on David. "…I hope you understand why I couldn't tell you guys. I was pretty happy just being Wes Hughes with the restaurateur parents. Didn't want to drag in the other story with me when I went to merry Windsor." He smiled faintly. "…sorry, guys."

Silence.

The conspirators kept staring at him, very frankly baffled. Kurt looked at Blaine, who looked at the Twins, who looked at Reed, who then looked at David. David just stared at Wes in complete amazement. The other boys, however, didn't hesitate. In a single mass they all jumped at Wes and tackled him to the ground, laughing and cheering.

"Oh dude, you are _badass_!" the Twins yelled, happily glomping him. "Do you know how awesome you are? That's the second most amazing story we've ever heard!"

"It's like from a movie!" Reed laughed.

"It's so not awesome and cool!" Wes grunted from under the pile in complaint, but sounding relieved all the same. "I'm a going to be a freaking crime lord! And I love mom and dad to the edge of my life and all but I don't like being the next Godfather…!" and it degenerated into an unintelligible grumble even as the boys playfully punched and prodded at him, hooting, "We still love you, Wessie! We think you're awesome, Wessie!"

"Okay, that's enough, come on, let him breathe—get off of him before his dad's people do it for you." David was hauling the others up. Blaine was still snorting back amazed laughter at Wes, who looked a little chagrined at the situation.

With a strong tug, David hauled Wes to his feet again and smiled. Wes looked at him and smiled a little.

"Told you, I wouldn't freak out," David told him, giving him a quick, tight hug. "You're my best friend, man."

Wes laughed and thumped him heavily on the back. "Thanks, David. I just…I didn't think you needed that kind of a background story from me. You've got enough to deal with."

It was then when Mrs. Hughes came running up to them. "Wesley Jonathan Hughes, what is going on here?" she gasped, clutching her purse and her shawl and looking worried.

"Oh you know you're in trouble when they break out the full name," David muttered to his best friend with a smirk.

"We're fine, mom," Wes smiled at her, giving her a hug. "I'm fine. Really. I'm…" and he glanced back to the rest of the Windsors who were beaming at him. "…I'm with my friends."

Mrs. Hughes stared at her son, looking perplexed, and then at the smiling boys with him. She looked at her dear only son who she so often wondered about, if he was happy, or sad, if he was sick or healthy, if he felt loved or abandoned by being sent so far away.

But she saw him smile, and the way he smiled at his friends, and his best friend David, and she felt that maybe it was going to be okay. She smiled and patted her son's cheek. "You're growing up very quickly, Wessie. I'm so sorry we're missing it."

The other boys laughed as Wes cringed at the nickname but smiled at his mother.

Kurt stepped away to look for his parents and found them in conversation with the Amoses—Burt and Mr. Amos seemed to be chatting away about sports while Carole and Mrs. Amos were talking about their respective sons' hobbies.

He smiled and went to them, hoping to lead them into Orion where the first part of the program would be, when he heard a voice carry through the crowd.

"Blaine? Shane?"

A woman. He turned and saw Mrs. Anderson getting out of a limousine and heading for her sons with a big, rather tremulous smile. Kurt saw the color evaporate from Blaine's face and he touched his father's arm. "Hey dad, can you give me another second? I have to—um…I have to be with Blaine to talk to someone for a minute? If you want you can just go ahead to—"

"Oh no, no, we're fine!" Burt told him, smiling. "Ted and I here were talking about football. I was telling him that you were a kicker back in McKinley for a while, huh?"

Kurt turned crimson. "Don't tell him that, dad. I'll be right back, okay?"

Mrs. Anderson was already with her two sons, the younger of whom immediately gave her a big hug and a bright smile. "Hey, mom."

"Hello, Shane…" she was looking him over. "Well you really got recuperated pretty fast." She blinked at him. "Is Westerville really that good for you, sweetie?"

Shane just laughed, a little awkwardly and wondering how exactly to explain that he got better so quickly because he was among people who not only were his friends but also because of one particular boy… He glanced to where Reed was, who surprisingly was having a chat with Micah, who had an art book open and seemingly asking him questions.

"Blaine," said Mrs. Anderson, smiling at her son in a way that looked more hopeful than anything, as though she wasn't sure if she was even going to get a response from him. "Hi, sweetheart. How are you…?"

"I'm good," Blaine replied with a small smile. "I'm doing good."

He squeezed her hand, not really sure of what to do. He wanted to run into her arms like Shane did, and she seemed like she wanted to take him into his arms, but there was an awkward air there, especially after the incident in Colorado. The two haven't seen each other since then, and that time had been a quick moment, and highly emotional. Right now, they had no idea where they stood. But Blaine could see that his mother was pleased to see him.

He felt Shane grip his arm, and he looked up to see his father emerging from the car behind their mother. Now, Blaine might not have been home for a while, but he knew that when his father and mother arrived and his mother ran ahead while his father lagged behind, they usually would have been arguing in the car on the way.

The start wasn't auspicious and even Shane knew that. Mr. Anderson already didn't look thrilled as he walked up to his family. "Shane, you've been here too long," he said without so much as a greeting to either son. "You can't just keep slacking off like this. You have to go back to Colorado and continue on your school year."

"Honey…" Mrs. Anderson whispered, "Shane went through an accident—"

"He's walking and bumming around here in Westerville, clearly, he is capable of going to his own classes instead of staying in a school that isn't even his." He gave Blaine a look that clearly showed his disapproval. "And you've been here all this time, and you don't bother to tell your brother off? Don't you care about what happens to his future? Because even if you don't look around so much about yours, you can at least tell Shane—"

"Dad, my being here is my choice!" Shane burst out, looking desperate. There was no way he was going to let Blaine take the fault this time. "Blaine wanted me to go back but I'm the one who wanted to stay—I was the one who wanted to be here—I _want_ to be here!"

"Shane and I would like to talk about that, by the way," Blaine suddenly said, drawing himself up in front of his father and a hard expression in his eyes. Surprised, the younger Anderson looked at the older one. And Blaine added, "About a couple of things, actually, that we want you to know."

"Really," Mr. Anderson frowned down at his elder son, looking displeased. "Do you really want to do this here, Blaine? This is ridiculous, your mother and I did not come all this way to hear the both of you complain about how badly things are going for you when we have both done nothing but make sure that you a well provided for. Am I not correct that there is some kind of…_amateur_ program involved that we should be getting to—"

"No, dad," Blaine finally said, stepping up to his father and eyes intent. "You're here because it's Parents' Night. And what people usually do on their Parents' Nights is that they genuinely _care_ about how their _children_ are doing. If we're doing well or if we're having trouble, if we're happy or if we were miserable. All of those things, they come here and they hear about _us_, their kids and usually that involves _talking_ to us too. _That_ is the point of this night, dad!"

Some heads had turned now. Shane was openly staring at his brother, aghast. Mrs. Anderson stared at her elder son, not quite sure of what to make of this. Quickly, in an effort to save face, she pulled Shane along. The younger Anderson seemed to twist away from her for a moment until she realized that she was ushering all of them towards a more secluded spot under one of the trees in the gardens. Mr. Anderson followed his wife but he glared down at his elder son, and Blaine, who was a little breathless after that outburst, looked up when he felt someone come up next to him as soon as he stopped at the tree.

It was Kurt, who was looking at Mr. and Mrs. Anderson with a placid expression on his elegant features. He glanced at Blaine once, as though to tell him he was here. Blaine's initial fire immediately cooled at the sight of him—like a fire hot blade taken out of the forge and thrust into water, hardened and made stronger. He looked at his father, and without warning, clasped Kurt's hand.

This surprised the other boy for a moment, but Blaine didn't look at him and simply said to his parents, "You said you wanted to meet my…my boyfriend." Mr. Anderson seemed to have flinched slightly. Mrs. Anderson stared at Kurt. Blaine continued, "I remember you saying that. So you get your chance. He's right here."

Both parents were silent. Mrs. Anderson tucked her hair behind her ear with a shaky sigh and glanced surreptitiously at her husband, who was even less pleased now. Mr. Anderson grumbled, "I knew coming here was going to be a bad idea and a waste of time…"

"Dad!" Shane protested, staring at him.

"I'm not going to stand here and let your brother make a fool of us, Shane!" Mr. Anderson barked at his youngest, who quailed.

"I make a fool of you when I tell the truth, dad…?" Blaine asked in a soft tone that almost cracked. He stared at him with wide eyes. "It's been a while since we last talked about this, did you think that between then and now, I was going to suddenly change my mind…like it was this choice that I made on a whim…?"

"I can't have this conversation again, Blaine."

"We're having it here. Now. I'm going to get to have my say!" Blaine stared at him. "Last time we talked about this—the last time, you did all the talking. That was fine. I let it go. I figured it would be hard for you to just suddenly up and find out that your eldest son is gay. That's fine. It's not easy and I never expected it to be. But I thought…" Tears stung in but did not fall. Blaine ploughed on, steeling himself. "I just thought that because I was your _son_—that if I gave you some time…that maybe just _maybe _you were going to love me anyway. Shot in the dark here, dad. I'm just saying."

"Blaine! _Not now_." Color was rushing into Mr. Anderson's face.

"We're going to have this talk here, because it's Parents' Night and you're supposed to care!" Blaine shot back. "Because I'll never have this chance again! I know you—you're just going to pretend like as long as you and mom don't mention it or say anything, it'll go away! It's not going away because I'm not! I'm still your son—that won't ever change! Please, just—we have to talk about this!"

Mr. Anderson finally exploded, pointing to Kurt. "Well get your so-called boyfriend the hell out of here!"

Blaine started, but Kurt answered with solid deference, pulling himself to his full height and lifting his head. "I have a name. It's Kurt. Kurt Hummel. And Mr. Anderson, I'd hate to break it to you, but if Blaine needs me, I'm staying right where I am."

"Blaine, you tell him to leave right now!"

"Barty!" Mrs. Anderson burst out, looking apprehensive at his tone.

"Why?" Blaine said in a low tone. "You were the one who said you wanted to see him."

"Yes and now that I have, it's obvious that you're both clearly too young to understand what the hell is going on with your lives." Mr. Anderson looked Kurt up and down in a way that made Kurt flush deeply—a sense of humiliation that he felt only when he just recently got slapped by a slushie to the face and had the mocking laughter of jocks echoing in his ears as they made him look ridiculous in spite of his reserve to bear punishment without real outcry. "You expect me to believe that you're serious about going out with this pixie?"

"You don't have to soften the words around me, Mr. Anderson—I've heard them all…" Kurt said evenly. "It really doesn't make a difference to me what you call me—it doesn't make it any more right to do so."

Mr. Anderson advanced on Kurt and Blaine immediately leapt forward to block his way when Mr. Anderson was snagged back—Shane was grabbing onto his blazer and looking both scared and angry at the same time. "Don't hurt them!" he almost yelled. "Leave Blaine and Kurt alone!" When Mr. Anderson looked at him, Shane released his hold and looked at his father. "Can't you see how happy they are? Don't—don't you want that for Blaine, dad?"

"_Shane_—!"

"And what about me?" he yelled. He almost sounded like a little boy begging for attention. "Are you saying that as long as I'm your idea of perfect that you'll love me? What if there was something about me that would make you as angry as you are now at Blaine? Are you going to kick me to the curb too? Are you going to throw me out and tell me never to come back the way you did to Micah?"

Mrs. Anderson gasped and looked at Shane. "Shane, that's not—"

"It's true!" he cried to his father. "I know what happened! You threw Micah out and you outed him and you told him never to come back or you'll hurt him! How could you do that to anyone, dad? How could _anyone_ do that…? Don't you know how scared he was already? Do you enjoy knowing that he's going to feel what Blaine feels—that his parents are _disgusted_ of him, their own son, for falling for someone who just happens to be of the same gender?"

"I did what I had to!" Mr. Anderson snarled back. "I had to get that boy out of there—giving in to these delusions isn't going to help Blaine—"

"Mr. Anderson," Kurt said, to keep him from throttling Shane who had yet to even say his biggest news, "Blaine isn't delusional. To this day he's only ever wanted for you to accept him. It's you who pushes him away, Mr. Anderson."

"Don't you dare lecture me about how I take care of my son, you little fairy!" Mr. Anderson roared.

"Hey!"

Burt Hummel glowered at Mr. Anderson, looking furious and coming at them like he was going to hurt someone. That someone being Mr. Anderson. "What did you just call my son?" He demanded, coming at them so fast that Kurt panicked and jumped in front of his father. "Dad—dad, stop! Please—you might end up having another—"

"You don't get to go around talking to my son that way!" Burt snarled. "You don't get to do that to my son _or _yours!"

Mr. Anderson blazed back, "You're going to teach me how to take care of my kids—I make sure they have a future! You realize how many doors will slam closed for Blaine if he keeps going on like this? You realize how much harder it's going to be for him to succeed out there like we always wanted him to? You have any idea how _hard_ he's making it for himself?"

"How is that any harder than knowing that the parents who are supposed to be helping him, supporting him, and encouraging him, and loving him, can barely stand to be in the same breathing space as him?" Burt demanded. "You think you're helping him? How is this _helping_ him?"

He carefully moved Kurt aside as he advanced on the other father. "I may not know your son as well as _you_ say you do, but I know that he's a great kid and just like all the rest of them, he's doing his best. And he's also young and going through a time when he needs you the most—and your way of helping him is this? Calling him and my son names and putting him down—how much more painful can you make it? Look at him! _Look_ at him!"

Mr. Anderson did look. Blaine was staring at him as though trying to still find the words to explain. He didn't know what else to do or what to tell his father to make him understand. And he didn't even know what he did to get Burt on his side this way, but whatever it was, it was more than what he expected out of this night. Shane was standing next to him, looking at his brother worriedly. Mrs. Anderson looked at her husband, and then moved to her sons, putting a hand on Shane's arm and trying to calm Blaine.

"Mr. Anderson? If I may…" Kurt looked up at him, "…an incredibly wise man once told me… that the kids' job is to be themselves. And the parents' job is to love them no matter what."

Surprised, Burt looked at his son, who looked at him and smiled slightly through the mists of his eyes. Blaine lowered his eyes, letting the tears fall unseen as he tried to catch his breath. Kurt looked back at Mr. Anderson as he held Blaine's hand. "When you look at him, Mr. Anderson…do you see your son? Because if even a small part of you does…I think it's worth trying to give this a chance. Just look."

Mr. Anderson stared hard at his boys, his mouth in a firm line. Blaine was gripping Kurt's hand and the gratitude he gave Burt through his expression went unnoticed for now. When his father looked back at Burt, he looked furious again.

"This is ridiculous, I don't have to stand here and listen to this. Shane—Marlene—let's go. I've had enough of this."

"I'm staying right here," Shane said immediately, staying with Blaine, glowering at him. "Tonight, Blaine's going to perform onstage with Kurt and he's going to be amazing and everyone is going to love him, and I'm going to watch. Because I'm his brother and I want to be there for him."

"Dad," Blaine said, staring at his father pleadingly. "…please. I want you to be here. I _need you_ to be here."

Mr. Anderson looked at his wife. "Marlene."

Shane looked at their mother. She had frozen upon being called out by her husband. She looked from him, and then at her two sons. Blaine was still looking at his father, and Shane looked at her instead. "…mom?"

She looked at her two boys, both of whom seemed so much older than when she'd seen them last. She smiled tightly at them and let go, looking to her husband and walking to him. Shane's heart sank and he held onto his brother, who remained standing quite still with Kurt.

Mrs. Anderson glanced at Burt with a small nod before she looked to her husband. Her eyes were rimmed red, like she'd been crying. She stopped in front of him. "Barty, I'm staying with the boys."

"Excuse me?" Mr. Anderson stared.

Blaine and Shane let out a single breath, aghast. Their mother had never taken their side before. Marlene Anderson let out a shaky breath but held her head up the way Blaine was doing now. Her voice trembled only slightly. "I would like to stay with the boys. I want to hear Blaine sing. We'll talk…all of us…" she glanced at the boys before back at him, "…back at the hotel. Where it's less…" she glanced around, "…crowded."

Mr. Anderson gaped at her. She nodded to him a little tearfully. "Please go ahead. I'm staying. I'll take care of this—you don't have to be here if you don't want to be."

There was a flurry of invisibly rage and Mr. Anderson bore down at his wife for a moment, almost making the boys jump to stop him, but he stopped just short of her before turning and striding off looking absolutely furious yet white in the face.

No one moved until he was out of sight, headed back to their car.

When the sight of him vanished, Marlene turned to her sons and gave them a small tearful smile. "Let's go to that program now, shall we?"

"Oh mom…" Shane threw himself at her, hugging her tightly and crying with all his might. He really was just like a little boy, the younger one between him and Blaine who had to be the stronger one all the time. But even Blaine went to his mother and hugged her tight.

"I'm so sorry, boys…" she whispered to them, just audible in the proximity. "I'm so sorry… I'm sorry it took so long for me to—" she choked it back. "—but we're going to fix this okay? Somehow. I want you back. I want my little boys back, I missed you both so much…"

"Missed you too, mom," Blaine whispered, buried against her shoulder, eyes hot with crying. "I missed you."

"Mom…?" Shane sobbed just audibly. "I—I really have to tell you something really important though…"

"Oh my little Shane…" Marlene let go of Blaine for a minute before putting her hands on Shane's wet, tear-streaked face. "I know, baby. I already know."

Both boys stared at her in complete surprise. Among the surprises tonight, this was the biggest yet, and Shane was understandably more stunned. "What…? Do you… Did you _know_ that I'm…that I…"

"Oh Shane…" Marlene hugged him tight, crying against her son, "…I'm so sorry, Shane… I'm so sorry for everything… I saw you… I saw you hiding in the kitchen. I saw you hiding behind the counter while your father and Blaine were fighting about Micah and I just knew what happened—"

Shane dissolved entirely. Blaine had to let go—he had to go to Kurt and hug him tight instead, desperately trying to control himself. This was way too much at one go and Kurt laughed softly, hugging him back knowing that over all, Blaine was _relieved_. "I'm so glad you're here…" Blaine whispered.

"I get to do the saving this time…" Kurt whispered back. "I did tell you that I'm not your damsel-in-distress."

"You're hardly a damsel…"

"I'm an _honorary_ damsel, I'll have you know…"

Burt patted their shoulders carefully but firmly. "Blaine? I think your mom and brother need you. If they cry any harder, they're gonna need some water…" he almost laughed.

"Thank you, _thank you_, Mr. Hummel, seriously." Blaine looked up at him quickly. "I don't know what would've happened if you hadn't—"

"Hey, I'm a man who takes my family very seriously." Burt smiled down at Kurt, rubbing his son's arm. "And I have a feeling that you do too. …really hope your dad comes around."

"Well…foot through the door…" Blaine replied, glancing back at his mother who was still hugging Shane. "I think we made some progress." He heard a keening whine from Shane signaling that his brother was an inch from another emotional meltdown at whatever his mom just said and Blaine looked at Kurt apologetically. "I…I better go…calm those two down. I'll meet you inside, okay? Is that okay?"

"It's fine," Kurt replied, smiling. "I'll tell Reed and Micah that Shane is…" he winced at a smothered sob, "…incapacitated."

Blaine gave him one last hug. "…I love you."

Kurt embraced him in return, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. "…I love you too." He felt as though they could both breathe. They haven't jumped the hurdle entirely…but they could definitely call that progress.

When he and Burt left the Andersons to get their breaths back, Kurt looked up at his father as they waked back to the crowds of boys and their families. "Dad…?"

"Yeah?"

"…thanks."

"For what?" he asked in a light tone, clapping a hand on his shoulder again.

"…everything, actually," Kurt replied, smiling at him.

Burt grinned back as Carole walked up to them. "Everything okay? Sounded like it got a little heated up back there… Burt told me not to come along—"

"Oh that was a very good call," Kurt replied, smiling. "It's still waterworks everywhere in there. Ugh. You could float the Titanic in there. We decided to give them a little time."

"Looks like you two had it under control," Carole smiled up at two of the men in her life and added, "Should we go inside for the first part of this event?"

"Yes, yes," Kurt said with a laugh.

And yet, just like when Alice thinks there's a way out, the door is too small, and there's something else to overcome. One last thing.

Logan Wright III was at the grounds, with a very frantic Julian Larson trying to explain to everyone what was going on. This was problem. A big problem. Because clearly, from the way the Windsors _and_ Stuarts—instead of being inside with all the rest of the students and their parents—were surrounding him were marginally freaking out, and the way Logan is standing staring at the moon, the prefect was _not_ well.

"Uh…let me…get back to you. You guys go ahead! Go on, believe me, the guys Culinary Club made some really crazy stuff to go with all the amazing food to go to the buffet—seriously, the Michelin people should come down and throttle them all for crimes against the cooking arts."

"Are you sure?" Carole asked as Kurt ushered them along.

"No, really! It'll be fine. Great. I just need to…calm down the madness. As usual. You know how it is…" Kurt gave his father a last hug. "Thanks dad!"

"We'll see you inside!" he heard Burt call as Kurt raced towards where the Windsor conspirators and the Stuart Warblers were gathered.

"What is the _matter_ with you?" Derek was fuming as Logan remained relatively harmless, just standing around and just about as useful as a palm tree in the exact same spot. Derek's outburst was directed to Julian, who clearly had been unable keep the prefect in check.

"What happened?" Kurt asked breathlessly, coming up to them.

"Where's Blaine?" Wes asked, staring at him.

"Family issues. Big ones. He's can't be here right now. _What happened?_"

Julian looked miserable and frustrated. "I swear, I got up and went to the kitchen to get some water for thirty seconds. _Thirty_ _seconds_. When I got back, he was already out the door and walking to here! Did you want me to tackle him?"

"And you!" Derek hissed to Bailey. "Your job was to make sure they stay in there!"

"I'm not going to tackle Logan, you realize what he could _do_ to me if he wakes up and he finds out? Hulk Smash is going to have _nothing _compared to that!" Bailey protested. "Besides, he's like a freaking sleepwalker—you don't push him, he might fall over and hurt himself!"

Well clearly that was a concern, seeing as how Logan remained unresponsive, staring at the sky and looking generally useless right there in the middle of the crowd of boys that wondered exactly what they were supposed to do with him. The Twins had taken to prodding Logan's side and seeing if he'll react. To their amusement he only swatted them off lightly without taking his eyes off the courtyard décor.

"Why is he even _here_?" Kurt hissed. "He's high! You might as well have a dummy prefect made of a sack of wet cement and I doubt if anyone can tell the difference! Bring him back to your dorm!"

"They can't," Wes remarked, arms crossed. "Because Murdoch's already seen him. And if you ask me, that calmed him down a lot because he's been looking for him and Stuart House can't be going around without a prefect in this event!"

"Even one who's like this?" Kurt demanded and used his index finger to push at Logan firmly.

The boy fell over and fell all over Thaddeus and Nick, who crashed into the ground with him and groaned. "Oh great," Derek rolled his eyes as the Stuarts tried to get the others back up on their feet.

"Oh, yeah, this is pretty bad," Charlie blinked as he and Justin stared at their fellow prefect. "How'd this happen again?"

"Very long story," Julian replied scathingly with a grimace at Charlie. "Our point is—what now?"

"Well we have to get through to him," Justin replied, waving a hand in front of Logan's eyes. "Before anyone else figures out that he's not exactly all there…"

"Talk to him," David elbowed Kurt.

"Why me?"

"Because he listens to you!" Derek replied.

"He also listens to Julian!" Kurt pointed out.

"Clearly, my mind-control over mentally incapacitated people is on the blink," Julian retorted. "_You_ try, Alice."

_People have __**got**__ to stop calling me that_… Kurt grumbled inwardly. He stood in front of the prefect and snapped his fingers in front of his eyes. "Hey! Hey Logan! Listen to me right now!"

No response. Kurt frowned, grabbed Logan by the lapels and yanked him down slightly to what was his eye level. "Logan Wright, pay attention to me _right now_!"

A blink. Brief recognition. "Oh. Hello, Alice."

Everyone else groaned. "This comes and goes," said Julian tiredly at the Twins. "You realize that he's been calling me and Bailey as Cheshire Cat and Gryphon before it transitions back to Julian and Bailey on fleeting moments of sanity."

"We're so proud we could _cry_!" the Twins exclaimed most unhelpfully.

"Well really, it was his idea," Evan murmured thoughtfully.

"Almost his idea," Ethan replied, nodded. "Half ours."

"But he named himself," Evan added, nodding as well. "We named ourselves…"

"Still, he was the one who got us "collecting" all the others…"

A small hubbub was brewing among the faculty, who suddenly looked apprehensive. Julian, without warning, suddenly punched Derek in the arm. "Ow!" he howled. "Jules, what the hell—?"

The actor grabbed him by the shoulder and turned him around to fact the school gates. A limo was coming in, jet black with windows tinted, and it came with an escort of gunmetal gray mazdas that definitely contained bodyguards.

Panic rippled through the faculty when a man with an earpiece emerged out of the driver's side and pulled open the door for the passengers. The first one out was a man in a crisp suit—a man that Kurt could not possibly forget so soon.

All the boys choked and gaped in horror, bug-eyed.

"Holy sh—" Derek gasped.

"That's not—" Wes began.

"What is he doing here? He never comes to Parents' Night!" Julian demanded.

"Oh _crap_." Charlie groaned as the teachers came running to greet the man and the beautiful blonde woman in her late twenties who was handed out of the car after him.

"Senator Wright!" Dean Ramsey said immediately as soon as she came up to him "Well! This is…a surprise…! We certainly weren't expecting you to be here…"

"I told John that it would be very good for him to come," Michelle Wright said looking very bright and happy. "He seemed to be fine during the Winter Festival thing and—"

Mr. Wright made an impatient sound and looked at Dean Ramsey. "Everything's copacetic, I take it? I did give Logan an ultimatum. Has he done anything I should know about?"

Blood drained from the faces of all the boys who overheard. Instant flashbacks of the great punch-out in the Valentines' Day fair happened. And in a single movement, everyone clumped together in a pile as the other dragged Logan down to the ground so he wouldn't be seen.

Charlie watched apprehensively. "…damn, so is Logan still—"

"High as half the hippies in Woodstock. I'm not kidding." Kurt continued to try and get something out Logan.

Michelle Wright was already looking around, and she excused herself from her husband—who seemed to rather want to speak to the faculty more than actually _look_ for his son at the moment. She began walking towards the boys, and the Stuarts, in a moment of panic, all looked at Derek.

Derek, frozen to the spot, muttered, "Get. Logan. Out of here."

"How?" Julian hissed.

"Lead him away like a drugged horse—I don't care! Just get him out of here! Hide him for a minute!"

"Come on!" Kurt hissed, pulling Logan along. Logan was in such a state that he wasn't sure while pretty Alice and he had to move along the crowd in a half-crouch with their heads low, but he thought it was fun. Apparently.

"This way…" Julian whispered, gesturing for Kurt and Logan to follow him quickly before he vanished in the crowd momentarily.

"Follow the Cheshire Cat, Alice," Logan said, amused, to the person whose hand he was holding. Kurt winced inwardly as he followed Julian, trying to keep sight of him. They had to hurry. As it was, it wasn't like they were very far off. From where they stood, they could hear Derek talking to Michelle Wright.

"What do you mean?" she asked worriedly. "Is he sick? Does he get the things I send him, though?"

"Yes, he does," Derek replied, smiling at Michelle and trying to keep her from looking around too much. "Trust me, he does."

"Well is he going to be around soon?" she said hopefully, smiling. "I got him flowers!"

"He's just preparing for his big performance!" Derek assured her.

The others glanced at Derek as though asking what the hell he thought he was doing. Logan was in no condition to be standing onstage converting oxygen into carbon dioxide let alone singing and performing in front of all the parents and alumni, and the Stuart Warblers knew that. Logan wasn't even singing _lead_. But hell, Derek thought, any port in a storm.

"Oh, really?" Michelle brightened up immensely at the thought of another brilliant performance from her stepson. "He's got a big performance again? Oh that's fantastic! I've totally got to tell his dad!"

Derek highly doubted Senator Wright would really give a crap seeing as how he didn't even stay to the end of Logan's performance last time. But if it would get Michelle distracted then by all means. "Sure! Sounds great! I'm sure he'd love to know that."

"Are you insane?" Bailey hissed the moment Michelle ran off.

Thaddeus punched Derek in the arm. "She's going to tell Senator Wright that his son is having a big performance when he's not even capable of communicating like a human being! What's he going to do if he heads out to that program and Logan is _not performing?_"

"Look, we'll just have to find a way to make him ready for the stage at least!" Derek hissed back furiously. "It's been a while, that stuff should wear off, right?"

"And what if it doesn't?" Thaddeus demanded.

"We really should've given him coffee," Nick pointed out.

"It might shock you and I can't believe I'm saying this, but coffee is not the answer to everything," Bailey, who was more partial to apple juice, replied. The Stuarts started all talking indignantly at the same time and bestowed him with withering expressions in response. Thaddeus looked at him like he'd just said an outrage. "You mock us, sir—!"

"All right, all right!" Derek snapped. "Enough! We have to stall." He looked at the Windsors. "Can't you _do_ something?"

"Like what?" Wes demanded. "We can't stall, we're the _Warblers—_we're actually on in _five minutes_! Harvey and Medel are going to want to see Kurt, Blaine, _and _Logan in the ranks and they're all kind of _not really here. _What did you want us to do?"

"Something!" Derek shot back. "Anything! You're good at that, aren't you?"

"Um…um…" Ethan was bouncing up and down on his toes, waving his hands. "We have do something… a distraction…we need to get a distraction… We need to buy some time!"

Evan nodded, doing the same, racking his brain for a really big distraction. "Lots of time! Someone has to do something—make enough panic to make the teachers push up the other presentations fast, buy some time for us to get Logan to recover and Kurt and Blaine some time to come back!"

Wes snorted. "Who could possibly do anything big enough to distract the entire school and the parents? Who's going to hold back the teachers from looking for us Warblers while we fix this?"

"While we can run interference from the other teachers—"

"Someone who isn't a Warbler can make the big distraction?" Evan suggested.

"You're sending someone who isn't a Warbler to take over the _first performance of Parents' Night_?" David exclaimed, staring. "Are you insane?"

"Yes!" the Twins chorused.

"Well—all right!" David stared at them. "Who are we going to get?"

The Twins all looked at one member of their group who had been quiet all this time. All eyes now turned to the sophomore who was fiddling with his cell phone, glaring at it as though he expected it to explode. Then he felt the evil wind blowing and looked up. Dwight stared.

"What?"

The Warblers all grabbed him. "We need you to make a distraction! A really big distraction!"

"Are you _serious_?" Dwight demanded, white in the face as they dragged him to the rear entrance of Orion Hall. "Have you all _collectively_ lost your minds? I can't do that! You see all those people and their parents already going in there? Do you have any idea what kind of trouble we are going to be in? I'm talking like academic _death_!"

"You'll be fine!" they all chorused, pushing Dwight along.

"You've done it a million times!" the Twins exclaimed.

"You're crazy! Do you have any idea what I've _been through_ today?" Dwight protested as he found himself being pushed into the backstage. He turned paper white when he saw the curtains and the fact that all of this would be witnessed by the contingent of other students, the parents, and the alumni, who were seated amongst elegantly decorated dinner tables similar to the style in Golden Globe award nights. And they were all paying very close attention.

"Okay look, look." Dwight turned, grabbed Wes and pointed out to the crowd they can see from the sidelines. "You see that? Right there? The lady in the silver-gray dress sitting at that table right there with some VIPs? You recognize that lady?"

Wes brightened immediately. "Hey, your mom decided to come?"

"_Yes_!" Dwight nearly screamed at him. "Do you know what she would _do_ to me? Do you know what she would do my _salt_?"

"Okay!" The Twins then grabbed Dwight and hauled him back away from where they could see the audience. They put their hands on the younger boy's shoulders.

"Knight," said Evan, "We know this is already asking you to go above and beyond the call of duty."

"And we know that you're already done more for us every single day than we give credit to," Ethan added.

"And we're sorry that we don't," the Twins added. "But please. _Please_ do this for us, Dwight? Please?"

"We'll never ask anything of you again," Evan vowed, blinking at him.

Dwight scoffed at that one. Everyone in Windsor was bent to the Twins' will sooner or later. But in this case… He glanced off towards where the parents were waiting. He seemed torn for a moment, "Well…all right."

"Harvey and Medel—Harvey and Medel!" hissed David as he saw the music teachers approaching. The Twins jumped. "Everybody run! Hide! Get back to where Kurt and Logan are, quick!" The Warblers fled rapidly, like it was one gargantuan game of hide and seek.

"Wait!" Dwight cried, standing amidst the chaos. "What am I supposed to _do_?"

"Do something! Anything!" Wes yelled back.

"What do you mean anything? It's a freaking dinner party! What the heck did you want me to do?" he flailed.

"Just stall! Something!" Evan yelled.

"Expulsion-level something!" Ethan added.

"_What_?" Dwight stared in horror.

He looked around for a moment and then stopped. He stopped, and took a deep breath, closing his eyes to try and concentrate. He had to do this. And he had to do this fast because Laura would be waiting for him at Hanover so they could get into Clavell's room. So he had to distract this audience like they had never been distracted before, then get out. Fast. Before he got expelled or something.

He opened his eyes and saw the Warblers still running. He saw one that he needed. "Bailey!" he grabbed the other boy by the back of the jacket. "I need your help."

"What?" Bailey stared. "For what?"

"Music."

* * *

Whatever the parents were expecting, it couldn't have been whatever Dwight had in mind. All of them, many in their best evening wear, were talking amiably with each other, a number of them with their sons next to them while the rest of the contingent who were still waiting on their parents or weren't expecting them to come were waiting at the tables closer to the main entrance.

The teachers were situated near the front along with the VIPs and they were all waiting for the first part of the program to begin without waiting for the other parents—who tended to be fashionably late—to arrive. What mattered was getting something onstage for the ones already there.

Light music was playing over the speakers for the moment as the people waiting for the Warblers to appear. However—

The music stopped with a short whine of feedback. All lights on the stage died. Everyone looked up, curious. There was no host, no sound, no light. The teachers looked at each other, as they hadn't been given the signal from Harvey and Medel that the Warblers were ready.

Then music began at top volume from the speakers—cymbal beat.

Onstage, a single old-fashioned mic on a stand was half-hidden, gleaming. Puzzled, everyone stared.

And then the lights all came on, trained to a lone form wearing a Dalton uniform, blazer open, tie loose and hand on a black fedora hat tilted down on his head as he leaned the mic over.

It was Dwight.

Without waiting, he jumped to action and began to sing with all shameless showmanship as he swirled around onstage in rapid dance, taking the mic with him.

_Please, leave all overcoats, canes and top hats with the doorman_

_From that moment, you'll be out of place and under dressed—_

_I'm wrecking this evening already and loving every minute of it_

_Ruining this banquet for the mildly inspiring and—_

Dwight ripped the mic off the stand and leapt off the stage—the parents gasped as he landed onto the floor, still with eyes on them all and singing, making those rapid dance moves—

_Please, leave all overcoats, canes and top hats with the doorman_

_From that moment, you'll be out of place and under dressed—_

_I'm wrecking this evening already and loving every minute of it—_

_Ruining this banquet for the mildly inspiring and—_

With the entire hall's horror-stricken eyes on him, some of the ladies at the table cried out in fright as Dwight made a single bound and landed on top of a neatly-decorated dinner table with a bang, silverware clanking as his feet landed and he struck a pose while singing—

_When you're in black slacks with accentuating_

_Off-white, pinstripes, woah-oh—_

_Everything goes according to plan—_

Dwight jumped onto an empty chair, flipping it right over as he slammed it down into the ground amidst shrieks as he ran, singing at the top of his lungs—

_I'm the new cancer_

_Never looked better, you can't stand it—_

_Because you say so under your breath_

_Your reading lips, "When did he get all confident?"_

_Haven't you heard that I'm the new cancer?_

_Never looked better and you can't stand it—_

By now the teachers were after him. Dwight was grinning madly, exhilarated by his own bravado as he leapt out of Murdoch's reach and ducked under one of the tables to get out on the other side, still running amidst the tables.

From the windows of the main entrance doors, the Warblers were staring in complete amazement at their schoolmate who was no literally causing bedlam amidst the entire program.

"Holy—" Wes burst out in aghast delight. "Go _Dwight_!"

"Run, dude!" David burst out laughing.

Dwight laughed as he evaded Mrs. Abernathy and jumped behind one of the buffet tables.

_Next is a trip to the—the ladies room in vain and_

_I bet you just can't keep up with—with these fashionistas and_

_Tonight, tonight, you are, you are a whispering campaign_

_I bet to them, your name is "Cheap"_

_I bet to them you look like sh—_

The male teachers were definitely trying to chase him now and Dwight jumped onto a chair and was now literally running down the long buffet table, hopping and dancing madly over the dinner trays as he tried to duck them.

_Talk to the mirror, oh, choke back tears_

_And keep telling yourself that, "I'm a diva!"_

Dwight slipped and fell off the side near the ice sculpture and seemed to disappear when the teachers reached that spot, but the boy popped up amidst one of the tables with the parents on it, one of the dads there reaching for a cigarette. Dwight grinned and pointed casually.

_Oh and the smokes in that cigarette box_

_On the table, they just so happen to be laced with nitroglycerin—_

The parents there froze, aghast. Dwight leapt away just as Mr. Newman tried to grab a hold of him and he went running down the middle berth of the tables in the hall. He saw his mother looking on, pure horror on her face while Ramsey looked livid, telling him to get the hell out of the hall.

Ah well. Too late to turn back.

_I'm the new cancer_

_Never looked better, you can't stand it_

_Because you say so under your breath_

_You're reading lips, "When did he get all confident?"_

_Haven't you heard that I'm the new cancer?_

_Never looked better and you can't stand it—_

The teachers finally seemed to have backed him into the corner and they clearly think that he's having some kind of psychological episode and were slowly trying to get a hold of him—Dwight stared at them all with a glint of challenge in his eyes, grinning as he held the microphone.

The Warblers stared in horror, thinking that their schoolmate was done for now—

_Haven't you heard that I'm the new cancer?_

_I've never looked better and you can't stand it—_

_Haven't you heard that I'm the new cancer?_

_I've never looked better and you can't stand it—_

"Go, Dwight, go!" Bailey yelled from the catwalk over the stage from where he was finished rigging the sound.

Dwight leapt back and jumped onto the stepladder left behind by the decorating committee. He climbed it up rapidly, nearly to the top, grabbed one of the cloth drapes over him and swung like Tarzan over their heads as the cloth tore from the top, sending parents screaming.

_And I know and I know, it just doesn't feel like_

_A night out with no one sizing you up_

_I've never been so surreptitious_

_So, of course, I'll be distracted when I spike the punch!_

He landed with a ninja roll onto the hardwood floor of the hall and was racing for the back entrance. The Warblers threw the door open immediately to make room.

Dwight flipped away the cloth off towards the teachers chasing him and he was running, free as a bird—

_And I know and I know, it just doesn't feel like_

_A night out with no one sizing you up_

_I've never been so surreptitious_

_So, of course, I'll be distracted when I spike the punch!_

He threw the mic back and made a huge slide like a baseball player going for homebase, sliding all the way out of the doors—which swung closed behind him with an echoing bang as the music ended.

Utter silence in Orion Hall as parents and guests stared in utter shock, the teachers gaping, wide-eyed, wondering what in god's name just happened.

And in a single movement, the entire Dalton Academy student body, all the teenage siblings, cousins, and guests, leapt to their feet, roaring in cheers and applause at the splendid performance. Screaming, excited talk reigned over the hall as the parents and guests stared in complete amazement at it all, and wondered if this was just actually all part of the show. They ended up applauding awkwardly along with the overexcited young people who already believe that this _had_ to be the best Parents' Night they've ever had already.

The fact that the parents and guests—especially the VIPs who were now smiling and were telling the administration, "Well that was rather interesting…"—weren't freaking out completely about this seemed to get the teachers and administrators to relax a little. No real damage was actually done, at least and everyone was talking loudly about the explosive beginning to the program.

Dwight had run all the way out with Bailey back to the Warblers outside, who were all laughing too hard to actually say anything except clap them at their backs. Even Justin and Charlie were grinning at him, completely amazed at a performance that must have eclipsed anything that they had done in their own sophomore years as rowdy boys in Dalton.

"Way to _go_!" the Twins hugged a very shaken-looking Dwight.

"Perfect!" Wes nodded, clapping so hard that his hands were starting to hurt.

Derek shook his head, a little disgusted and a lot amused at the madness that only Windsor House could possibly pull out.

Dwight panted, "Did Kurt already manage to get Logan—"

From where he stood, Derek choked back a gasp as he looked up to the grounds and saw their prefect apparently in conversation with a man that Derek recognized to be one of the Tiptons' family lawyers. "Bailey!" He grabbed the music-addict by the shoulder and shoved him to that direction as he and the Twins immediately ran off towards where a pale-looking Kurt, a disoriented Logan, and a frazzled Julian was standing. Clearly, in spite of the time bought, the effects hadn't worn off.

Bailey just barely realized what was happening, when he finally stumbled up to them, and the lawyer saw Bailey and looked relieved. "Oh here you are, Bailey. Your—"

"My parents sent you, yes, I know," Bailey replied, looking a little breathless.

"I was just talking to John over here," the man said, smiling, gesturing to Logan. "He's your prefect?"

"Yes," Bailey replied hastily. "Really, he's really busy, and he has to go…" he widened his eyes at Kurt and Julian.

"Yes!" Julian immediately said, staring up at the man. "We have to go! We have to, um…prep. For the performance. Very important. Logan?" He tried to tug him along and for a moment, Logan looked disoriented and wouldn't move.

"Has he said anything at all?" Bailey hissed to Kurt, who replied hastily, "Yes or no questions, it hasn't been that long, although he did mention something about how the crocodile improves its shining tail."

Bailey groaned and looked up at the lawyer. "We _really_ have to get you into the Hall now!" he laughed forcibly. "Let's go!" And Bailey pulled the lawyer away, who looked a little confused, heading back into the still exuberant hall.

Charlie was in shock. "Did that lawyer dude just call Logan "John"?"

"That _is_ the guy's actual name…" the Twins replied calmly.

"And the lawyer is still _alive_?"

"I told you Logan was high…" Derek grumbled. He strode up to them. "Great. So he's still not out of it. I'm taking Logan and Julian back to Stuart. You Warblers do what you have to do." He immediately grabbed both Logan and Julian's wrists and dragged them off.

The very instant they disappeared, they heard someone clearing a throat. Everyone turned around to see Harvey and Medel staring at them, eyebrows raised.

"And…what in the world was that…?" Harvey demanded.

The Warblers all looked more like deer caught in headlights right now. "Um…" Wes began, blinking, "That was…well…"

"Impromptu!" Evan immediately volunteered. "Add a little excitement. Get the crowd riled up!"

"Splendid performance, I'd say," David added, nodding.

"Yes, absolutely," Ethan said, blinking. "Everyone liked it! Did you hear them applaud?" He gave them a nervous smile that his Twin matched.

Harvey glowered at them all. He looked at Dwight, who was cowering, first. "Your mother wants to see you. As for the rest of you—" he pointed imperiously to the rear doors. "_Everyone_—_backstage_, _now_!"

"_Yes, sir_!" the boy chorused immediately, running like the wind. The Twins jumped up. "Come on, Alice!" they said quickly grabbing Kurt.

"What exactly happened in there?" Kurt hissed to the twins.

"It's better if you don't ask right now…"

As he got strung along by the overexcited twins, he caught sight of Dwight, who was standing with a woman in a neat, trimmed dress, with an elderly woman and a tall man. His mother and father, maybe? But as he got whisked by, he heard Dwight call the tall man "Uncle". Maybe this was the famous Uncle Ford, he who gave in to Dwight's eccentricities. His mother looked livid and was scolding him (and didn't necessarily look too angry, at least) but the uncle was just laughing and urging her to go back into the hall, looking very amused.

Dwight glanced to the side and saw him getting pulled away by the Twins.

And for a moment, Kurt remembered.

"_I want you to stay out of the whole Adam Clavell mess!" Dwight had told him._

"_What? What mess?" Kurt replied, narrowing his eyes at him. "What have you heard? Have you been snooping around again?"_

"_Look, just __**listen**__ to me! That guy could be really really dangerous! Don't get any more involved than you already are! I'll handle this. I'm a professional."_

"_Hardly," Kurt snorted. "Look, don't worry about this! I've already told Justin about the suspicions. He said something will be done."_

_Dwight just shook his head. "I don't think so. I don't want to rely on administration. They won't believe any of us! Can you honestly say that right now, __**you**__ believe __**me**__?"_

He couldn't. Because…Dwight was being over the top as usual. This entire conversation happened while Dwight was trying to fill his pockets with medallions, rock salt, and strapping on ancient weaponry that Kurt was simultaneously grabbing from him as some looked too dangerous to be pulled out in school especially in a big event like tonight. He had the feeling that Dwight's mother looked relieved that her son was unarmed.

He had to calm down—because Kurt didn't intend on going any deeper than he already had. The Hanovers said they could deal with this, that it was all right that he just needed to calm down. So it was going to be all right.

Dwight watched as Kurt got pulled away by the Twins. So he was safe. As long as Kurt stuck to the other Windsors, Adam wouldn't dare take them all in one go. And speaking of Adam… He glanced surreptitiously at his phone as his mother and uncle continued to bicker, Ford trying to tell Mrs. Houston that it was good that Dwight was finally being so expressive—

_I'm here! Where are you, Houston? - Laura_

"Mom, I have to go!" he quickly told his mother as he looked up. "I'll be right back, go on ahead to the hall—there's just something important I have to take care of."

Mrs. Houston stared at her son indignantly as he ran off without hesitation, diving through the crowd. "Thomas! Where do you think you're going?"

"Do not call me that!" Dwight screamed back as he ran. "I'll meet you back in the hall! I'll be back, I just have to do something really quick!"

"Tommy!" his nanny gasped.

"_Especially_ that!"

Justin, who had overheard, looked a little surprised and he looked at the others. "Who the hell is Thomas again…?"

"She means Dwight," Charlie replied with a laugh. "His name is Thomas Dwight?"

Justin snorted and glanced back a little. "Where's the fire…?"

"When it comes to Windsor…do you really want to ask that question?"

"You two prefects!" Medel exclaimed at them both. "That's quite enough chatter from you both, get into the hall immediately before I tell Dean Ramsey that you had a hand in this!"

"Yes, ma'am!" they immediately jumped and fled back into the hall.

Inside the hall, everyone looked up as the program officially began, the emcees making awkward jokes about the earlier performance.

But Adam looked up as Justin came in and took his spot where the prefects were supposed to sit. He observed them quietly. Justin, and Charlie, but no Logan. Wherever he was, he must be with Julian. And Dwight didn't come back inside even though the people Adam assumed were Dwight's mother and uncle just did. So people were moving already.

And with Danny being a Warbler…no one was watching him.

It was time to go.

Adam looked to where he sat with the other Hanovers who weren't expecting their parents, and smiled. "Please excuse me for a minute."

The others nodded to him, not suspecting anything, as Adam got up, walked to the rear doors making sure that no one was watching, and slipped out.

* * *

Reed hastily made sure that all the paintings were placed in their perfect positions and that they were secure. The Art Club had already retreated to the Hall with their parents and he had sent Clark with them in spite of the older boy's insistence to help. After Reed saw how obviously displeased Hilde was to have Clark here at all. He actually thought that Hilde was going to set Clark on fire with the look she gave him.

True, his parents were civil, but they haven't really talked at all in years. And Hilde had made it clear that she did not approve of Reed associating himself with anything of his father's. As it was, he didn't have to—his father worked in the music industry and he was immersed in Hilde's fashion world. So Clark must _really_ rankle for her.

_And it's the first time they've met and everything too… _Reed sighed unhappily as he finished lighting the candles.

After the Andersons had their moment—clearly it was serious and Micah kept him back even though he wanted to follow. That Shane would call for them when the time was right. As it was, he had stood watching and listening as the Andersons and the Hummels had that debacle in the distance.

When voices rose, he wanted to run to them—and he would have, if his mother didn't materialize. After speaking to her about the program and bringing her to Orion Hall, Reed had excused himself and made a beeline to the Art Hall as every raging insecurity he had about his mother's approval took possession of him.

Of course when he realized that he had a couple hundred candles on the tall candelabras to light, he felt a little daunted. So off he went lighting everything, ready for when the parents got there, and just in case some of them arrived early.

Like his mother.

Reed sighed when he lit the last few candles in the third floor. He now had to go all the way downstairs to the first floor and make sure that the tables and flower arrangements looked nice downstairs.

He stopped at these last two candelabras and felt surprised. These candles had been brought in here days before the event, but no one had lit them. They were under strict instructions not to light them around the art until the day itself.

Reed carefully touched the wicks. They were black. They had been lit before. In the next stand, the wicks were also black. Someone had lit half the candles here, and then put them out again. Frowning, Reed wondered, _Who lit these candles…?_

As he stepped away, trying to see which candles had been lit, he saw something on the floor. A flash of color. A red rose head. Reed bent down and picked it up. This was the second one he had found. At first he had thought it was one of the flowers from the arrangement downstairs, but he had to wonder, how did they get up here on the third floor, when all the arrangements were downstairs on the first?

All the power died.

With a stifled gasp, Reed looked around at the third floor, which fortunately was filled by candles that stood at a safe distance from the paintings and sculptures in the middle of the hall. He quickly ran across the third floor space to the doors and went down to the great length of the second floor. "Ms. Blumenfeld?" he called. He remembered that the Art teacher was downstairs, also setting up a little. "Ms. Blumenfeld, what happened to the lights? Is everything okay?"

No answer.

Reed started to get frightened, and worried. He walked around the second floor, hoping to find the Art teacher. But it was so quiet in the building that she couldn't have possibly missed his call.

Reed stopped when he caught the sight of a pair of legs. His art teacher was lying on her side by the side of one of the sculpture pedestals, and she looked unconscious, her long hair spilling everywhere. "Ms. Blumenfeld!" he gasped, running to her. She must have fainted—

The impact was sudden, brutal, and without hesitation. Reed found himself thrown to the ground and he hit the ground with a crack. He was so blindsided that he didn't even have time to scream. He felt a powerful grip grab him by the lapels of his blazer and nearly lift him off the ground as he picked up against and got thrown violently into the wall. Body wracked in pain, Reed wanted to cry out but a strong hand clapped over his mouth.

A hot breath was over his face, and in the heat of the power outage and the flickering candles, Reed opened his eyes to see a tall boy wearing a school uniform bearing down at him. He was immensely strong—he held Reed's head there on the wall. Reed struggled for half a second before he heard a low shushing sound—and the unmistakable feel of a sharp metal blade grazing up the side of his neck.

"Don't move, little Dormouse…" came the mocking whisper of the boy that held him, and Reed realized that he was holding a knife that gleamed in the candlelight.

Reed whimpered in pain from behind the hand that pinned him there, so scared that he could hardly dare to move. The knife moved away from his neck. Reed winced as the boy lifted it higher, to the side of his face, up to his temple, and then it scraped his skin there.

When the knife drew back, Reed realized that he must've busted his scalp when he hit the ground the first time—the knife had scraped up the blood that was trickling down the side of his head.

"Is there anyone else here…?" the tall boy asked in a low, even tone and he only seemed to shake with restraint. "Are you alone…?"

Reed tried to gasp for breath but when he did, the boy pulled him off the wall and slammed him into it again. Reed hit the ground with a moan of pain before the hand came back to his mouth and he got propped to the wall again. "You're not allowed to talk. You weren't supposed to be here. Neither of you." He glanced back to where Ms. Blumenfeld lay. "Now…is anyone else here?"

Reed choked back a sob of pain and terror. He only managed to shake his head, to tell him that there was no one else. In the glint of the candlelight, he saw a badge on his collar.

Hanover.

He was one of them, one of his schoolmates. What was happening—why was he even doing this? And worse…what was he going to do to him? He felt blood and sweat trickle down his face. He had to do something, anything. This boy already hurt one teacher and he had something planned. Something to be done in the Art Hall. Or he wouldn't have asked if anyone else was here.

The boy flipped the knife in his hand and suddenly slammed it into the wall a mere inch from Reed's head. Reed screamed behind the hand. Without warning, the boy grabbed him by the collars again and threw him into the ground away from the wall.

Reed saw his chance. He was used to falling and always tried to recover—as he fell, he felt ground beneath his feet and pushed off. He struggled to his feet, every inch of him screaming in pain as he broke off to run.

He didn't get further than six feet before his leg screamed in pain and he fell to the ground again on his side. He heard the sound of something getting picked up from the ground and footsteps just as he pushed himself up on his hands.

The impact of the blow was merciless—a swift explosion of pain—and Reed's world instantly went black.

Adam stood over the shorter boy, panting a little with exertion. He dropped the baseball bat he'd brought along just for the occasion. He smiled to himself, admiring the color of the liquid that was matting Reed's curls red.

That was the good thing about celebrations like these. All the security people cared about taking care of the VIPs. All the nice, wealthy VIPs in Orion Hall right now. They all overlooked the _really_ important people who just didn't happen to be in the throng.

A lone guard was in the Art Hall, and when Adam ran up to him telling him that he was very badly needed over some other direction as someone's little sister just fainted, it took Adam all of two seconds to shove him down the steps. He was still conscious, so Adam took care of that with the baseball bat. He wasn't allowed to interfere. No one was. Adam was tired of being patient. And he didn't have to be anymore. It was time to save Julian.

Especially when he saw that Clark Sawyer had come. No doubt another bloodsucking social climber looking for a way to get closer to Julian and boost his career up some. That was what all of them did. It was time to whisk that angel away before someone else could hurt him any more.

And this was the only way to convince him. To remove everyone standing in the way of the perfect future that Adam had planned for him. The perfect future that Julian deserved.

Ms. Blumenfeld was easy. After he killed the lights, all it took was one swing and she was down. Then he heard that boy call out. The little one—the one they called the Dormouse. He felt a little bad, doing this to him, but it was all his fault for being where he shouldn't be. Getting in the way and all.

If everything had gone as planned, he would have Julian here by himself and he'd tell him all the amazing things he'd done for him. And Julian will realize that it was Adam who loved him all along. But other people just kept getting in the way like they were just _asking_ for it. And protectors like him didn't take hindrances kindly.

As he dragged Reed's limp form up the stairs to the third floor, he amused himself with the thought that the Art Hall could be seen as a castle and he was like a Knight off to protect his liege lord. He dropped Reed unceremoniously in the inner room where his paintings were and tore off some of the rope from the draperies using the knife. He bound his hands and feet, and bound his mouth with one of the large napkins from the tables downstairs.

And speaking of knights… Adam stood to the window that faced Hanover House.

* * *

The chill that Dwight felt low in his spine was something that he wasn't sure he'd actually felt before. For a horrible moment, when Laura turned the key in the lock and a loud click was heard in the silence of Hanover House, he felt they should turn back. "We shouldn't be in here."

"Shh!" Laura hissed and pushed the door open. Point of no return.

Dwight let out his breath. It was time to find out if he was making all this up, or if he was right. He stepped in, past the point of no return.

The dorm room was oppressively dark—the curtains were drawn to shut out the fading afternoon light. But there was a metallic tang to the air that supremely distressed the hunter. "Do you smell that…" Dwight whispered as he fumbled in the dark trying to switch on the flashlight. Laura rolled her eyes and said, "I could just turn on the light—"

"Shut up! Someone might hear us!"

Laura shook his head. "I told you, everyone in Hanover is out. Practically evacuated the entire dormitory. No one's here. And you said you saw Clavell with the rest of them downstairs…?"

The flashlight came on at last and Dwight stepped in, the beam piercing the gloom. Through the dying light, the room looked quiet enough the bed only a little unmade, the desk stacked with CDs and books. The flashlight beam fell upon the walls, which looked bare save for wallpaper, which was peeling—maybe because of weak glue. "That's weird."

"What do you mean?"

"Wallpaper isn't the same as the outside."

"So?" Laura raised an eyebrow as she began to feel around the bed for any hidden journals and through the side tables to find some incriminating evidence. "People decorate their rooms all the time in this school, yeah?"

"Not with cheap glue." Dwight stomped across the room directly towards the peeling wallpaper. "Besides, this looks like it's meant to come off, I think—oops." he stopped when something crunched beneath his feet.

"Don't break anything!" Laura panicked as she looked around. "We're not supposed to be in here!"

"That's what _I_ said earlier—too late now, we've tracked fingerprints everywhere. Gil Grissom and Morpheus will be on our cases in a second," Dwight grumbled and aimed the beam down to his feet. He had crushed a scarlet rose. He blinked. "Flowers?"

"What?" Laura crept down to take a better look—and her hands fell over more soft flowers. "What—it's all over the floor." She looked at the petals thoughtfully. "Spencer did mention that Adam had a thing for flowers…"

Dwight pointed the flashlight around the ground. Petals were torn and scattered everywhere. "What the hell—"

"Dwight!" Laura whispered excitedly. "Look what I found!" She had pulled out a sticky black book from under the bed she was near. She looked a little disgusted by its texture but nevertheless held it up. The older boy narrowed his eyes and aimed the flashlight at it. "What is it?"

"Diary maybe? His journal?" Laura flipped it open and snorted. "Kind of a lot of entries, but okay. Does this boy not know how to blog?"

Dwight immediately grabbed it from her, indignant. "Don't just open stuff! What if it's cursed?"

"You're being ridiculous." She quickly snatched it back but Dwight was holding onto it pretty securely, and as a result, it tumbled from their hands—and loose pages scattered everywhere. Laura hissed as the loose pages flew around like there was an impromptu Warbler performance. "Have you gone completely mental? Look at what you've done!"

"_Me_?" Dwight glared and would've said something more, but he saw something on one page on the floor. It was mostly scribbles, and it looked like some kind of poetry. Not cursed, he figured, but that wasn't what interested him as he picked it up. He saw that the back of it had a strange pattern, like transfer. And it was a transfer of a familiar pattern.

"What is it?" Laura asked.

Dwight turned back to the wall, aiming the flashlight beam at it. He held the paper up. Same pattern. This page had been glued…to the wall? In brisk strides, Dwight crossed the room and to the walls. He found the spot earlier, where it was peeling.

"I think…this page used to be on the wall," Dwight murmured, looking at it the thin, cheap wallpaper and the print stuck to page covered in a dried film of glue.

"Yeah, but…" Laura looked around at it. The wallpaper may not have looked neatly placed but it wasn't marked with places where a page might have been sticking. "Where? It doesn't look like—" she stopped. She had put her hands to the wall, and she felt that it was uneven, almost lumpy in some places. "Dwight…put your hand here on this part of the wall."

The hunter moved forward and did so. He felt surprised. "Something's under there. Laura, step back." Dwight, a veteran of ripping into old houses' wallpapers looking for witches symbols and getting into lots of trouble for it, quickly sought out the peeling corner of the wallpaper. He spotted it at the corner and he boldly reached up to it, pulling it away in a swift yank.

The paper came off to reveal the wall.

Laura dropped the book again, staring with wide, stunned eyes at what was beneath when Dwight aimed up the flashlight on it. "…what…what is that?"

Dwight stepped back, heart thudding in his throat, aiming the flashlight all over the wall trying to see how far the horror reached. The liquid splattered onto the wall was dark red and it smelled horrible. "…It…" he covered his mouth and nose. "It smells like…"

"Is that blood?" Laura gasped, swallowing hard. She clapped a hand over her mouth to keep from gagging.

What bothered Dwight wasn't the smell as much as what else was stuck behind the wallpaper. There were more than just pages and pages of letters and poetry.

Photographs. Hundreds of them. Some from newspapers, magazines, printouts from fansites—cut out of posters and movie paraphernalia—and worse, infinitely so much worse, were polaroids. Hundreds of polaroids that were taken _within school grounds_.

And all of them, each and every single one, was of Julian.

All the patient work of a boy that was clearly not in his right mind.

Dwight's emotions tried to pronounce themselves all at the same time—jubilation that he was right ("I was actually right for once!"), horror at the spectacle ("did he glue those photos with that…_stuff_?"), and finally, complete and utter alarm ("This guy is well beyond crazy and dangerous!").

He ended up with a very stricken, "…_damn_."

Laura fled. At first Dwight thought she was going out of the room, but she went on full on ransack. She started picking up flower petals, grabbing loose pages on the ground, and she told him, "Grab some of the photos off the wall—the bloody ones! Hurry!"

"What?" Dwight stared at her.

"Evidence!" Laura shoved the papers into her bag. "Go! Hurry! We have to get this stuff and get out of here and show Justin and the prefects so that they'll tell people that there is one _seriously_ demented individual living in here!"

"Right." Dwight sprang forward to the wall. He grimaced at all the dried animal blood on it—it had to be animal blood, _please_ just be animal blood—and started tearing photos off walls. He had grabbed two when he realized something as he looked closer. "…Laura?"

"What?" she hissed, clearly busy trying to toss the sheets. Prudence was out of the window—they were going to bust this guy and they're busting him tonight.

Dwight kept staring. At first glance, a lot of it _was_ Julian, but when he looked closer, not only were a number of them mutilated, but they also weren't all Julian. Shakily, Dwight pulled off a polaroid of a blond boy that he knew too well.

"…Logan." He stared, rubbing away the crusted red liquid. There was an X mark on the bottom of the Polaroid. Scribbled at the back, _Off with his head._

Dwight swallowed. Adam planned on getting rid of Logan too. Why wouldn't he, if he was so crazy about Julian then clearly Logan was public enemy number one.

Dwight searched the photos, alarmed. He pulled another one down. It was Derek. The same words were behind it. _Off with his head._

Hands shaking, he grabbed another one—one of Laura as she sat with Justin. He turned the photo to see the same words—_off with her head._

Now positively panting in terror, he grabbed the next person he saw who wasn't Julian. His chest constricted when he saw his own face on the polaroid. He didn't even want to turn this one around. He closed his eyes.

_Oh god…he knows about us. _Dwight tried to collect his wits. _He knows we're trying to stop him_.

He opened his eyes and saw one more photo that wasn't Julian. He reached out and pulled it down. A familiar face from his own House.

Kurt.

And worse, while this one had the same words as the others, it had something else.

_Time's up._

"What, Dwight?" Laura came up to him. Dwight glanced to her and fanned the photos like cards. "What…is that _me_?" she demanded

"It's a hit list," Dwight swallowed. "He made a hit list. Oh god, Laura, we've got to get out of here now. I think he's out there and he's planning to—"

A door slammed loudly downstairs. Both of them looked up like deer caught in headlights, horror-struck. "Who's that?" Dwight hissed. "I thought you said everyone was gone—"

"Everyone _was_ gone!" Laura cried, looking frightened.

"Okay shh!" Dwight quickly covered her mouth. His heart was hammering in his chest and he knew that Laura hadn't figured it out yet, but that same psycho they were chasing was after them too. And the fact of the matter was, if he had this much planned out, he probably _let_ them get this far too.

He ran to the door and peered out. The hallway in this floor was still empty. But someone was definitely moving downstairs.

"Okay…this is what I want you to do…" he whispered as he looked back to her.

"Oh my god, Dwight, is it him? Is he coming upstairs?" Laura's voice rose.

"Shh! Quiet!" Dwight hissed, feeling alarmed. His mind was racing and every instinct in his body screamed only one thing—get them out. But in this case—that was impossible with Adam approaching. There was one way…but not for the both of them. "Do not panic. Do not scream. We don't have time. Where is Justin's room?"

"O-on this floor, at the end of the corridor," Laura said, looking scared. "Why?"

"Only one of us can run down there."

Laura blanched, shaking her head. "No, no no—Dwight—"

"We don't have _time_!" he panted. "Look, you have to go to his room, because you have the key. You stay in there and you hide! You understand?" there was the sound of footsteps.

"What about you?" Laura whispered desperately.

Dwight shook his head. "You're just going to have to trust me. He's got a knife, we know that much. Too dangerous. Now go—!"

He threw her out into the hallway. Terrified, Laura stared back at the boy in the room for only a second. She knew what leaving him there meant. Dwight was going to take the attention. The room was already in shreds.

"_Go_!" Dwight mouthed to her angrily, pointing down the hall. And Laura ran. She whipped through the hallway as lightly as she possibly could, running to Justin's room, unlocking it, diving inside and pulling the door shut with a soft click…

…as Adam's footstep landed on the hall.

Dwight closed his eyes and took a deep breath. _I have to get out…but at the same time…he has to think it's only me who's been in here. Buy Laura some time._

The door was clearly ajar. He heard the footsteps approach. He swallowed and stuffed all the evidence he had in his hands into his coat. He made a break for the windows, tearing the curtains aside and pushing it open. He had just enough room to squeeze through. There was nothing below him but some short shrubs, and even though it couldn't be more than two floors up, it was a high drop. If he fell the wrong way—

The door opened fully.

Dwight, who was just climbing out, looked up quickly, startled. Adam smiled at him from the door. "So I guessed as much," he said, in an almost friendly tone. "You can't trust anyone in this school. Everyone lies."

"You have _no_ room to talk," Dwight snarled, coming down from the window a little. He didn't have his weaponry—Kurt hadn't let him go around with them. He only had his holy water sprayer. "When the teachers see all that crap you've got on your walls—and your hit list?" Dwight fanned the polaroids in his hand again and shoved them into his blazer pockets. "You're going to freaking jail and or a psych ward."

Adam started walking to him. Dwight's breath caught when he saw that he had a baseball bat in his hand. His heart stopped when he saw that it was already stained red. Adam seemed to catch that.

"Oh, this…?" he gestured to the bat. "Windsors are troublesome people. Always where you don't want them. It was not intentional, really. I didn't think he was going to be there. But I knew you would be here, and you're not going to stop us from being happy, Dwight. I won't let you."

_Who the hell did he— _Dwight backed to the window, sprayer held up to him and shaking. "Stay away from me!"

"You can't be serious…" Adam laughed. "You're being ridiculous, Dwight. You're overreacting." He stepped closer.

Dwight cried out, ducking as he sprayed him in the face. Adam cried out, dropping the bat to the ground and wincing, covering his wet face with his hands. Dwight looked up with a gasp, unable to believe it—it worked? It actually worked?

Adam stopped cringing. He grinned behind his hands and made a short laugh. Without warning, he lunged forward with a powerful shove. Dwight received the full force of the impact with a sharp cry and he smashed through the wood panes and the glass—and he plunged to the ground and into the bushes with a sickening crack—

—and did not move.

Adam stood at the window with a small smile.

* * *

Laura heard the sound of the outcry and the broken window. She heard Adam's door slam and footsteps go running down the hall, and then down the stairs, possibly to check on his handiwork. She held her breath. Adam must be going after Dwight, wherever he was. Time to go. With Adam gone, she could go another way and find people. She could find her brother and everyone.

Laura waited, ear pressed to the door. When she heard complete silence, she counted to ten mentally. And then she threw open the door and ran down the hallway—

—straight into Adam's arms.

"Oh, hello, Laura." Adam smiled.

Completely aghast, Laura gaped at him. "…What…?"

A powerful push—hands slammed into a small body. Laura fell into the supply closet and slammed into the shelves with a sharp cry, cleaning materials clattering down. Splinters pierced her palms. The door slammed and everything plunged into darkness.

"No!" she threw herself forward and slammed into the door, fists pounding. "Let me out!"

"Little girls should be seen and not heard…" she could practically hear him smiling. That same gentle smile.

"You can't do this!" Laura screamed. "Justin! Justin!"

"He's out. It's Parents' Night…and as prefect, he's busy." Sound of a key tinkling as the hand that held it left it right at the doorknob. "But I'll tell him you're okay. I wouldn't hurt you. You're just a little girl. I couldn't do that."

"Justin!"

"No one can hear you. They're away. But…you already know that. That's why you went into my room, right?"

"I hate you! I hate you! I hate you!"

"I'm really sorry, Laura. I really am. But…I have to protect him. There's so many people here who are hurting him. You understand, don't you?"

Laura's heart was in her throat. She looked around desperately. It was already darkening out, the last time she looked. But when she saw nothing but blackness, felt nothing but walls and shelving, she knew she was trapped.

He was going. She heard his footsteps. He was leaving. He was going to finally get what he wanted.

Laura closed her eyes, fighting back tears and failing. She choked back a sob of helplessness.

They just can't be too late to stop this. They were always just in time. Surely Danny would know by now. Or Merril. Or Spencer. Or Justin. Justin had to know by now!

Hanover can't be too late.

* * *

"This is really bad…" Wes muttered as he paced backstage.

The Twins were performing first, but Blaine would be next and he needed to be here already, and no sign of the Andersons or Micah could be found. Worse, while Reed wasn't singing lead for the event, he did attend some of the practices and Harvey and Medel fully expected him to be there as well to at least back the others up. And yet he hadn't shown up.

"They can't be both missing," Kurt said finally, looking very tense and stressed from where he was sitting. He had performed in front of parents before for Winter Fest, true, but this was different. It was a little bit more discerning. And secondly, both Blaine and Reed were missing in action.

Harvey didn't look pleased. He glanced out again to the crowd where all the parents watched the current performance going on right now. He had three leads missing—Blaine, Reed, and Logan. One of them had an explanation. Two didn't.

"Are you sure that none of you can tell me where Logan is right now?" he looked at the boys. "If there is a problem, you know I do expect you to tell me, right?"

They all looked at each other. "Um…" The Twins, who were preparing to perform, looked a little nervous. Harvey looked at all of them. He didn't even look angry, he only looked deeply concerned. As far as he concerned, things had been going exceptionally well for everyone—until tonight. Something was clearly wrong.

Kurt looked around at the other boys, and they only looked at him as though they expected him to be the one to be the leader. Kurt took a deep breath and stood, shaking his head as he looked back to Harvey. "Sir, I'm afraid I have to tell you that we're not confident that Logan is capable of doing anything right now except _breathe_."

"What happened?" Harvey frowned.

The boys stood still, not really sure of what to do or say. _How_ do they even explain it? Harvey stared at them all and then let out his breath. "Does this have anything to do with his father being here?"

"Yes and no," Wes replied quietly. "Let's just say that this night will become unpleasant very quickly if his father sees him in the state he is in."

"Unfortunately," said Bailey, looking nervous, "His father and stepmother seem to be expecting him."

"Is he going to be okay?" Harvey asked, real concern in his tone. "Is he ill? He was in the grounds prior to this."

"We don't know yet, sir," The Twins replied, looking anxious. "We last saw him being led off by the other Stuarts. We haven't heard from them yet."

"But I _can_ tell you that he's being looked after by his friends," Kurt piped up. He looked up at Mr. Harvey. "He's expected to be all right probably in time for the last performance. He really wanted to perform sir, you saw how hard he worked during practices. If it hadn't been for the prefects' meeting, he would've dueled for the lead, we all know that."

So they did. Harvey looked deep in thought. He looked anxious as he looked among his boys, who did also look rather worried about the situation. Blaine, Logan, and Reed gone. They had to all be rounded up. If Logan wasn't well, as the boys suggest, then maybe he was better off not performing at all. But unfortunately, if his father was expecting him, then something had to be done. He knew what Senator Wright was like—there had been plenty of stress in the last performance he attended. And after Logan had begun doing so well, it wouldn't be good to place him in hot water now—everything will be for nothing, especially after Kurt and Blaine's efforts to help him.

But he needed to look after the other boys as well. Something had to be done and fast. He looked to Kurt. "You did say Blaine had gone with his family. Did he say if he was still going to perform?"

"Yes sir, he told me to go ahead and that he'll see us here in the hall, but I haven't heard from him yet either," Kurt replied, frowning a little. "I think he may still be in the grounds with his mother and brother. They had a very serious family issue earlier and they could still be working it out with his mother."

_So Mr. Anderson didn't come_… Harvey thought, looking worried. He'd also heard about Blaine's father. Many families in sticky situations right now—he knew that Reed was gone because he was pressed by his mother's expectations on the Art Exhibit too. They needed to buy some time.

"You think you can still go find him, Kurt?" Harvey asked. "You don't have to go on for at least another half hour."

The diva was already pulling out his phone. "I'm going to go find him _and_ Reed."

"Okay. Now listen, all of you. I want all of you out there and doing your best. Evan, Ethan—" the Twins looked up to their teacher, "—you know what to do, go break a leg out there. Kurt, you're to go out and find Blaine right now because he's coming up after the twins and the next round of performances. At least see if he and his family are doing all right. If not, you'll go in for his spot. See if you can get a hold of Reed too while you're out there. Bailey, Thad, Nick—go see Logan straight after the performance. I don't even want to know if he's performing, I just want to know if he'll be all right. I'm going to try and see if we can manage to give him _some _kind of performance if he's well enough to do it."

He looked around at the boys intently. "For the moment, I don't want you all to think of anything but this right now. The performance. We have some setbacks, but that's part of it. We'll get this done. We're going to be okay, all right? You all have worked very hard, and no matter what, I'm sure you're going to do great. Just remember who you're singing for out there. And after this, we'll get it all straightened out, all right?"

"Yes sir," the Warblers chorused, smiling at him. Harvey nodded at Kurt. "Go find Blaine and Reed. Evan, Ethan, the stage is yours. Everyone go."

Pulling out his phone, Kurt immediately ducked out of the backstage and moved out to the sidelines at Orion Hall. Lights went down, and the curtain rose. All eyes were aimed to the curtain onstage. He ended up shoving his phone back to his pocket, when he realized a hundreds of tiny pinpoint lights were lighting up all over the hall—coming from the décor, the tables, within the flowers in the arrangements on the table. Hundreds of tiny little lights that shone through the darkness, making the audience pleasantly surprised as they glowed.

Kurt began to smile when he remembered what the Twins were singing.

The identical boys led, standing in front of the stage. They weren't quite looking at the audience—more to one person in particular.

Kurt noticed her immediately—a tall girl in her mid to late twenties, in a beautiful dress, with long dark hair, seated near the stage with all the most important people and alumni in the school. Among all the other people in the audience, she was surrounded with the most lights coming from the heap of white roses in her arms.

The Twins were smiling at her as the other Warblers began to sing amidst the lights. But to Kurt's surprise, as the other Warblers began the intro, the Twins were already moving. They kept their bodies still for now, but their very expressive hands were making gestures, all the while keeping their smiling eyes fastened onto the girl at the table.

And when they began to sing, they became infinitely more expressive with their voices, hands, and bodies, as they gestured in fluid, elegant movements that were like a second song in itself.

_You would not believe your eyes_

_If ten million fireflies_

_Lit up the world as I fell asleep…_

_'Cause they'd fill the open air_

_And leave teardrops everywhere_

_You'd think me rude_

_But I would just stand and stare_

As the audience murmured in very pleased surprise, Kurt stood, mesmerized by the expressive movement of the Twins that painted as much color as their voices. A little girl with another family who sat near Kurt seemed to brighten up immensely at the sight of the twins, and he too started to gesture excitedly, partially mimicking the twins as he did. And another student—one of the Hanover boys—was beaming as he signed something to his friends. Kurt saw the hearing aid in his ear, and he realized what the twins were doing.

_Sign language_… he realized, watching them. The Twins were "singing" in sign language. And they were smiling very sweetly at the girl at the table the whole time.

Kurt beamed at the two in spite of himself as they moved onstage. The girl at the table stared up at them with surprised eyes that misted up in emotion as she put a hand to her chest as though to express her emotion.

_I'd like to make myself believe_

_That planet Earth turns slowly_

_It's hard to say that I'd rather stay_

_Awake when I'm asleep_

_'Cause everything is never as it seems…_

Evan and Ethan winked at the girl at the table. The girl's chest seemed to swell with love. She made a gesture that Kurt immediately knew could only be "I love you." The Warblers were grinning with the twins as they sang, voices soaring up to the rafters, the Twins taking the command of the song with all their movements and their voices. The girl never took her eyes from them.

"Audrey Brightman," came a soft voice next to Kurt. He looked up and saw Ms. Medel standing there, watching the Twins with a smile, and the girl that they were clearly singing to. "Their older sister. Much older sister. I understand that she practically raised them both since Mr. and Mrs. Brightman were away so much. They're very close, all three of them."

"Is she…" Kurt began, and Medel nodded, "She's deaf. Her situation is a little more complicated than others, so conventional methods such as hearing aids and cochlear implants aren't as effective. The Twins learned sign language from when they were very small so they could talk to her."

Kurt nodded and turned back to the pair onstage, smiling a little. He began to understand why the Twins were so passionate about practice and about winning the lead spot for the performance. Why they seemed to be practicing restlessly in their room. They had never done the sign language during practice, meaning it to be a surprise for everyone, but it was evident that all the time they were locked up in their room and music was playing, they rehearsed everything.

They had to have planned all the "fireflies" in the hall. Even the flowers in Audrey's arms—Kurt remembered seeing them with the Twins as they ran around preparing for the night. They were determined sing to her to the very best of their ability, as she was, without a doubt, their most beloved talking flower of all.

The "fireflies" seemed to rise in intensity now, floating amidst the dimness of the hall and twinkling like so many stars.

_Leave my door open just a crack (Please take me away from here)_

_'Cause I feel like such an insomniac (Please take me away from here)_

_Why do I tire of counting sheep (Please take me away from here)_

_When I'm far too tired to fall asleep_

_To ten million fireflies_

_I'm weird 'cause I hate goodbyes_

_I got misty eyes as they said farewell…_

_But I'll know where several are_

_If my dreams get real bizarre_

_'Cause I saved a few and I keep them in a jar…_

"They have always _always_ wanted to sing to their sister," Medel murmured softly, watching the identical boys continue to perform onstage with their bright smiles and highly expressive voices and gestures, keeping the entire audience absolutely spellbound. "And…I fear that their big struggle is that she could never hear their voices as much as they'd want her to."

"That's not true…" Kurt replied with a small smile, watching the Twins and their sister, who looked barely able to control the tears in her eyes. "…I think…that they're singing to her well enough to have the desired effect. Their voices right now are just fine."

With each fluid movement of their hands and bodies, the expression of their eyes and features, the Twins didn't need their sister to hear the sound. They _were_ singing to her—singing to her in a way that touched her, like no voice in this planet could match to even if she _could_ hear.

Kurt smiled, nodded to Medel and fled to go find Blaine and Reed. The Twins and the Warblers continued to sing to the congregation.

_I'd like to make myself believe_

_That planet Earth turns slowly_

_It's hard to say that I'd rather stay_

_Awake when I'm asleep_

_'Cause everything is never as it seems_

_When I fall asleep_

_I'd like to make myself believe_

_That planet earth turns slowly_

_It's hard to say that I'd rather stay_

_Awake when I'm asleep_

_Because my dreams are bursting at the seams…_

When the Warblers finished, the entire Hall erupted into applause and cheers. Audrey Brightman was applauding harder than everyone else. Some people rose to their feet, applauding to the Warblers as they performed, and the little girl that Kurt had earlier seen was bouncing up and down in excitement. The Hanover boy with the hearing aid rose to his feet, applauding—and everyone got to their feet in a standing ovation.

The Twins ran to the edge of the stage, bowing exuberantly to everyone and clearly reveling in the spotlight. Audrey leapt to her feet and ran to the stage without hesitation. The Twins hurried to her and reached down, hugging their sister as she tried to hug them both, weeping in spite of herself.

The Twins only smiled as they hugged her, kissing her cheeks and giving her two white roses that was on a single long stem, each of them with a "firefly" in the middle. She gestured her thanks and love to them and kissed them again before stepping back, waving to them lightly as they retreated backstage, still smiling.

* * *

_(Location: Art Hall.)_

Kurt held the phone to his ear as he walked down the garden path, a frown etched into his face. He had decided to walk around all of South and Main, trying to catch sight of Blaine and Mrs. Anderson, but so far had no luck. And then after a moment—

"Blaine Anderson, your phone better be crushed in the sidewalk somewhere because there's no reason you should not be answering it right now!" Kurt glowered as he went. Then he rolled his eyes and continued leaving the voicemail. "Fine. You're having a moment. That's great. I'm really really proud of you, but you kind of have to be in Orion Hall right now—you're going to be up in under…what, ten minutes? Because if you don't get there right now, I'll happily take your spot, I'm just telling you—"

He stopped when he heard his phone beep and he glared at it. The battery was low. Today had been so crazy that he didn't have the chance to charge it. Groaning, he put it into his pocket and decided to look for Reed, who had to be in the Art Hall panicking. At least he was fairly sure that his friend would be there.

Trudging steadily towards the Art Hall, he squinted in the darkness. If it hadn't been for the path lights, he would have missed it. It was completely dark, save for mild orange flickering of what looked like candlelight inside, which he found extremely odd. He knew that the Art Club can be eccentric in their ways, but surely they didn't intend on holding the entire exhibit by candlelight?

He jogged up the steps and pushed the door open. Everything was dead quiet.

The first floor was empty. Everything seemed to be set and ready, with all the nice cocktail tables and the flower arrangements and the lit candles, but this candlelight obviously wasn't meant to be the only source of light in the entire floor, or building for that matter. Frowning, he looked around.

"_Reed_?" he called. "Reed, are you in here?"

No answer. But when he went up to the staircase, heard something clank from the floor above. There was the sound of a door closing, and footsteps approaching.

Frowning, Kurt headed upstairs to the second floor, feeling a little apprehensive and trying to feel his way through the dark. The candlelight _definitely_ shouldn't be the only light. "Reed!" he called.

"Oh. I was just about to come get you."

Kurt stopped on the staircase and blinked. That voice wasn't—

There was crash through the darkness and Kurt met full impact—he screamed—he went flying down the wood staircase. He tried to stop himself from falling, grasping in the dark but only managed to skid his fall a little, wood slamming to palm and sending tearing pain up his wrists, right before crashed onto the landing, coughing and the pain shooting up his back and body.

A deep sigh in the darkness. "You guys really don't know when to quit. How could you do this?" footsteps coming down the staircase. "Are you all really that selfish? Can't you see that you're only killing him slowly by keeping him here…?"

He was used to pain after all that bullying back at McKinley, but nothing like this. Hardly paying attention, Kurt coughed painfully, tasting blood in his mouth and spewing it from his lips. He couldn't move his right arm and his ankle screamed in white heat every time he tried to move it. That was when the footsteps stopped in front of him, and he saw a pair of sneakered feet. He winced, looking up—and barely had enough time to register who he was looking at when a strong hand grabbed him by his perfect coiffure and pulled him up.

"Hello, Alice." A hand tightened grip on his already painful arm and sent him hurling again. Kurt stumbled on his bad ankle and crashed into one of the cocktail tables with a sharp cry. His world exploded into pain as he hit the floor with a sickening impact, one leg trapped through the table legs.

He could smell roses. And something else.

A powerful hand clamped down onto his throat, keeping him down, and through the burning sensation riddling through his body, he saw someone bending down to him, the gentleness of the movement in sharp contrast with the hand to his throat. Kurt blinked through the ache and realized, through the candlelight, who he was looking at.

"Tell me," Adam said softly. "Where's Julian?"

Kurt could only choke in response. The grip on his throat was powerful enough to leave bruises, and it loosened its hold somewhat. Adam very calmly repeated his question. "Where is he, Kurt?"

If there was _anything_ worse than what he was feeling right now, it was that sickening feeling deep in Kurt's gut that he, as usual, was right all along. His instincts had been screaming it at him for the past few days, but he had convinced himself otherwise.

He was right. Someone dangerous was in school. Someone was after them.

And he was right—it was Adam.

Kurt let out a sob. "What is the _matter_ with you?" he choked. "Why are you doing this?"

"You didn't answer my question," Adam sighed. He took something out. It gleamed in the candlelight. Kurt's hands went cold when he realized it was a knife.

Adam leaned down very closely and whispered to his ear, very gently, "Tell me."

_He's insane—he's completely insane— _Kurt squeezed his eyes shut. _He's going to kill us. He's going to kill __**me**__! And he's going after more people—oh god… _He just shook his head, scared out of his mind.

"I really don't want to do this to you, Alice."

"_Stop calling me that!_"

"I just…I have to know," Adam said softly, pleading.

"So…" Kurt tried to catch his breath, "…so you can hurt them?" He stared at him, angry, scared, and in pain all at the same time, hating him. Who else did this psychopath want…? Julian? …Logan? Everyone? "I…can't tell you."

Adam closed his eyes, his face crumpling a little bit as though he were going to cry. "Please don't make me. I really don't want to do this…I really don't…"

"Then…don't." Kurt stared at him, trying to breathe.

"I have to. I have to protect him. Don't you understand…?" Adam's hold tightened on the blade. "Don't any of you understand? I'm trying to _protect_ him! He's so scared…And I have to be there—"

"You have no idea what scared is," Kurt choked at him. "Do you even know what you're doing right now? What did you do to Reed? _Where is he_?

Adam stared at him. For a moment, he seemed to waver as though he wanted to just run. Kurt stared at him, a terrible thought coming to his mind. "Where's Blaine? _What did you do to Blaine_?"

That roused the other boy. Adam stood up, eyes blazing and his body shaking, pulling Kurt up with him. "Blaine—you only ever care about Blaine. You and your boyfriend. You're another reason—you're _the_ reason—that everything went wrong!" He pushed Kurt to the nearest wall, snarling in his face. "You're the one everyone keeps looking at. You're always the center of attention. You're the one who Logan cares about and that makes Julian unhappy! You're the reason for everything!"

Kurt found himself flying to the ground again. _He's really gone insane…_ he thought miserably as he tried to get up and failed. _What is he going to do to us…?_

Adam didn't seem to want to wait for answers. He started pulling Kurt upstairs, presumably to take him where he had put Reed earlier. Kurt winced with each forced step and he had no choice but to comply. "Please don't do this…" Kurt whispered as Adam pulled him up, heading towards the third floor. "You don't have to do this, you don't."

"I do." Adam tugged him along, and Kurt realized that he was actually being surprisingly attentive to the fact that Kurt was injured. He didn't try to make him any worse at the moment.

"What are you going to do…?"

"You're going to sit upstairs." Adam's eyes stayed stonily up at the third floor, as they ascended the glass steps. "And you…you're going to watch."

"Watch what?"

"You're going to watch me and Julian be happy at last. You're going to sit and be quiet and not get in the way. For once. Then you'll see how wrong you were in trying to stop us from being together."

They entered the third floor. Kurt blinked into the sudden brightness of the candlelight—they were _everywhere._ Kurt could smell candlewax and feel the heat building from all the lights. Adam kept pulling him along until they reached the inner room—the same one where Reed was supposed to be holding his exhibit.

And there Reed was.

The other boy had become conscious again and Kurt's heart sank at the sight of the curls that had been partially matted red, and the fact that his friend was bound and gagged. "Reed!" he gasped.

"I didn't mean to do that to him," Adam said, sounding unhappy. "I didn't think he'd be in here. But I guess he can watch too. As long as he stays quiet." He unceremoniously dropped Kurt next to Reed. Reed was squirming as hard as he could until the gag fell loose.

"Kurt!" he gasped. "Oh my god—" He looked at Adam. "Why did you bring him here? He didn't do—mmph!"

Adam easily replaced the gag on Reed with a sigh. "He was here looking for you. I'm sorry. Really. I just can't have any more of you getting in the way. I have to go get Julian, you know…"

Adam moved on to bind Kurt down as well—pointless, seeing as how Kurt could barely move already. Adam sighed. "Why do people always have to be in the way…? First there's you, and now Kurt had to be here… If I hadn't gotten the others out of the way early—"

"You poisoned Logan?" Kurt choked as he struggled through the bindings.

"I didn't, I promise," Adam replied, staring at him. "I just had to get him out of the way a little. If he was still running around, he'd get in the way. And besides, Julian would like him a lot less now that he's a mess like that."

"You could've _killed_ him," Kurt protested, ducking the gag Adam was trying to put in his mouth.

"You're right," Adam agreed. "But after all the pain he gave Julian…is that such a bad thing? Nobody likes him. He's too horrible. He doesn't deserve it."

"And _you do_?" Kurt cried before Adam successfully stuffed the gag in.

Adam stared at the two Windsors and sighed. "I've done nothing but protect him all this time. Tonight he'll know it's all me. And he's going to realize everything I've done for him. He'll know it was me who looked after him all this time. And then we'll leave you all. We'll be happy. It won't be long now."

He got up and walked to the door, Reed crying behind him. Kurt glanced at his friend, angrily struggling at his bindings in spite of the pain that ricocheted through him with each movement. He tried to think of what he could do.

_They'll come looking for us. They'll have to. The program doesn't end for another hour… In an hour we could all be… _Kurt swallowed and closed his eyes. _But they'll come looking for us. He can't get away, he can't—_

Kurt looked up when he remembered. _Dwight! Dwight knows! He's been doing stuff all this time and snooping around Adam—he'll know, he'll warn the others! They'll come get us!_

Reed had slumped down to the floor, trying to breathe. He was crying in pain, or so it seemed, and Kurt could see that he needed bandages on his head quickly. Kurt closed his eyes, willing himself to be strong.

_Blaine will come looking for us… once he comes back and finds out I'm missing he'll come looking. And they'll all put two and two together—_

_They have to come for us. They just have to._

* * *

_(Simultaneously: Stuart House)_

"Just bring him upstairs and keep him there until he's back to his senses!"

"What? Why does it have to be me, D? He listens to you!"

"Yeah, but for some insane reason, after that incident in Warblers' Hall, the only person he's listening to is Kurt, who is not here, and _you_! So take him upstairs!"

"And? What? Tie him down so he doesn't wander off?"

"Well, take some of his stuff off. He'll get his uniform all wrinkled if you don't and they say he needs to breathe—"

"_I'm not taking his clothes off, Derek_!"

Derek dragged a hand down his face. The three of them were back in Stuart House, and seemingly the only people there. After they finally managed to drag their lost friend up towards their House, he proceeded to be useless. Whatever he ingested has not worn off yet, leaving Julian and Derek to actually keep guard of him in the common room.

That is, until Logan started to doze off and fell face first into his coffee cup. But by far this was probably the best thing to happen—maybe he'll be better when he had a nap.

Derek's patience was at an end. The whole time they were there, Julian had alternated between fretting and whining, like he usually did, and Derek was starting to fray at the edges. Not only did he spend the whole time making sure that the house was safe, that Logan wasn't choking on anything, that everyone was calm and that the rest of the House was doing all right, but he had to make sure that his two friends remained sane and unharmed _even _from each other.

So he snapped. "Damn it, Jules! Just go do it, stop being such a drama queen! You're already leaving! We don't have time! Just do this one last thing for him, will you? This _one last thing_! And then…fine. _Leave_."

Julian stared at his friend. Derek was pacing the common room, completely over the edge. "You know what, I didn't think I would ever say this, but I'm kind of _glad_ you're going! And you want to know why? Because for once, for _once_, you came to the conclusion that would keep _you_ safe which is tantamount to looking after yourself which Logan has yet to be able to do! It means that I can _breathe,_ that I don't have to worry about you running around in this vastly-underprotected-but-should-be-better-protected school where you wouldn't _listen_ to me about needing help and _now_ Logan is drugged and there's probably a psycho maniac running around school and you still won't let us go and tell anyone and now it's too late to do that without causing utter panic and outrage throughout campus with all our parents here and _his_ father is here and _my_ father is here and—"

"Derek!" Julian ran to him and grabbed his shoulders, shaking him. "Derek! Stop!"

Derek stared at him, breathing hard. And then he sank. Right into an armchair he sank, head in his hands. Julian knelt in front of him staring at him with marked concern. "…D…come on breathe. Just…breathe."

"I can't do this anymore, Julian…I freaking can't." Derek's voice broke where he sat with his face hidden in his hands. "It's too much to do, too much to take, all of it, and I'm too tired. Would it be…would it just be _too much to ask_…for you and Logan to just _get your mess straightened out_? Dude, what is the _matter_ with the both of you?"

Julian stared at his friend. And then he looked at Logan, who was staring out the window listlessly. His hand rested on the armrest of his chair, fingers lightly moving as though playing a piano. Clearly still out of it. Julian turned back to Derek, who had not moved from where he tried to choke back a sob.

Julian closed his eyes. _I did this. I did all of this. I can't even blame my messed up stalker—I could've avoided all of this. I did this_.

"Okay."

Derek looked up. Julian stared at him and clasped a hand on his shoulder. "I told you earlier." He glanced out for a moment and then back at him. "I told you that I saw Sawyer earlier. I'll find him and go back to LA with him. I'm out of here. You don't have to worry anymore. I'm done. It's done."

Derek stared back at him. He paused for a minute, then he said, "Look, Jules…I didn't mean that to sound like—"

"No, I know," Julian replied, nodding. "I know, don't worry. I just…" he exhaled. "It's not fair to you. We're grown people, we should be able to look out for ourselves. And really, D, you're much better at being an ass than you are at being a martyr." He smiled.

Derek laughed slightly. Julian added, "And…we can't keep doing this to you. At least I can't. You're kind of my friend, not my personal assistant. Now if I make _her_ life a living hell, I won't lose sleep over it." As Derek laughed again, Julian's smirk softened to a smile. "…but I can't lose you as a friend."

Julian rose to his feet. "I'll take Hazy over here upstairs. You? Need to breathe." He went up to Logan and stood in front of him without saying a word, waiting until the taller boy looked up at him. And then he extended a hand, "Let's take you upstairs. Sleep it off."

Logan stared at his hand like he didn't know what it was. Julian sighed, grabbed his hand and hauled him up, dragging him along upstairs. Derek stood as well. "I'll…I have to do something, I can't sit still."

"Then make yourself useful and pack my stuff for me," Julian smirked in the usual self-important way that he usually did. "And please make sure to do it neatly? Unpacking after a long trip is always a pain for me."

Derek rolled his eyes. "Yeah whatever."

But it wasn't until all three of them were finally in the hallway when Julian is practically dragging Logan down the hall, when he told Derek, "D…leave the uniforms, ok?"

"You're not taking them with you?" Derek said, stopping at Julian's door.

"Nope." Julian left Derek to stay in his room as he pulled Logan into the anteroom. Julian smiled to little Pavarotti, who perked up at the sudden arrival of footsteps. "Hey, Pav. Your owner's a mess."

The bird chirped lightly in response and settled back to sleep as though it wasn't totally a shock to him. Julian smirked and half-carried half-dragged Logan into his room. The prefect was starting to chuckle a little. "You're talking to the Jubjub bird."

"Oh my _god_, Logan, why are you even more insane now…?" Julian led Logan toward the bed, grabbed the back of his friend's jacket and unceremoniously dumped him into the bed, yanking his jacket off in the process. Logan snorted in laughter from where he was flopped facedown on the bed. "What a pain," Julian grumbled as he nudged the prefect further into the bed using his foot. "There. Now go to sleep."

"Song!" Logan commanded.

"What?"

"Sleepy time song."

Julian dearly, _dearly_ wished that he had a camera right about now as this had to be the biggest piece of blackmail that the higher beings above could possibly drop on him—Logan Wright demanding to be sang a lullaby of some kind before going to sleep. "You _can't _be serious!"

Logan actually sat up and pointed dramatically to him. "Song! Now!"

"Julian! What's going on in there?" Derek yelled from the hallway.

"_Nothing_!"

"Song—now!"

Julian dragged a hand down his face. He envisioned his last moments with Logan Wright to be something rather different from this. None of his scenarios involved Logan being drugged and high and demanding some kind of sleepy time song as though Julian was a babysitter.

Sighing, Julian said, "…fine. Just once."

"Fine…" Logan threw his face into a pillow and immediately looked prepared to just doze off. Julian stared at him and smiled faintly. This was the last time he was ever going to see him anyway. His best friend of three years. And the boy he loved for nearly the same length of time. It's not like he would ever remember.

And besides…

He only felt through music. So this was all he could give him.

So what was the big deal…?

Julian went to close the door before he went back to Logan and still a little begrudgingly tugged the covers over him, socks, shoes and all. "Sing to me," Logan mumbled into the pillow, as Julian pulled the covers from the side of the bed, and gave him an unseen bitter smile in response. Always the command. Even in his subconscious haze, Logan wanted music.

He stood next to him, staring. It's really goodbye now.

Softly, he began.

_Sing me to sleep…_

_sing me to sleep…_

_I'm tired and I…_

_I want to go to bed…_

_Sing me to sleep…_

_Sing me to sleep…_

_And then leave me alone…_

As soon as the covers were done, he stepped away from him, looking his last at the boy who, for better or worse, had entwined himself into his life for so long. And it would be horrible, and it would hurt like hell to do it, and it meant losing contact with the few friends that really meant something to him. The ones who called him out on his crap, the ones who pretty much were as bad as he was in every way and took it in themselves to deal with him.

Who would do that? No one _does_ that. But they did. And now they were all tired out.

Who wasn't tired of this…?

_Don't try to wake me in the morning_

_'Cause I will be gone…_

_Don't feel bad for me_

_I want you to know…_

_Deep in the cell of my heart_

_I will feel so glad to go…_

Derek was tired. Logan was tired. Julian was tired. If he just broke away now—wouldn't it be so much easier? He really just had to go. It was the best bet. Safer. And easier. Didn't you pull up the weed so the flowers have room to breathe?

He was fully aware what kind of a person he himself was—he was worse than either of them combined. At least Derek had goals in life and worked hard to get them. At least Logan had a reason to be angry. At least Derek took care of everyone. And brutal as he was, Logan was honest about things. What did he have to say for himself now? What had he done?

The stalker wasn't the poison. Julian was.

He stepped away, backing himself carefully for a moment, never taking his eyes off Logan's still, unmoving form.

_Sing me to sleep_

_Sing me to sleep_

_I don't want to wake up_

_On my own anymore_

_Don't feel bad for me_

_I want you to know…_

_Deep in the cell of my heart_

_I really want to go…_

Logan stirred slightly.

Julian had his back to him and stood at Logan's desk, looking at all the photographs of them. So few of them had him in it anyway. Was he really ever around for him? All this time Julian was the selfish one, wasn't he? He could've left, he could've protected the people who mattered to him.

But he didn't. Because maybe, and he had to admit it to himself, maybe he was just dying for some more time. Just a little more time. Before he had to let go. Pretending that it could be okay—it could be all okay. And in that moment of selfishness, he'd nearly managed to get him killed.

That photographs, the presents—any sane person would've left. Done something.

He didn't. But there was still time, right?

To say goodbye?

_There is another world…_

_There is a better world…_

_Well, there must be…_

_Well, there must be…_

_There is a better world…_

He closed his eyes and walked back to Logan. He was lying so still that he must be asleep. He smiled a little. Good. He deserved some rest from the angry world in him.

Julian put his hand on the door, smiled a little at the boy on the bed. "It's been a good three years, though…right?…sorry I missed most of it." He sighed and turned away. "…Goodbye, Logan."

He opened the door and stepped out, into the anteroom, closing the door behind him.

* * *

And from where he lay on the bed, Logan stirred a little more. He was deep into the fog, a dense haze that he fought through, struggling to pull himself out of it, sensing as though he were missing something. It felt cold, like something warm had fled him. He _heard_ something—and he had the strangest feeling that it was really important. That it was something he should have paid attention to. Something he had to know, he had to hear it.

Something had happened just now.

And it sounded like a goodbye.

* * *

When Julian stepped out of the anteroom and into the hall, he nearly jumped out of his skin when he saw someone standing there waiting for him with wide eyes. He gasped in shock for a moment and then relaxed, rolling his eyes.

"Oh…Adam. It's just you. Geez, you nearly gave me a heart attack."

Adam stared at him with wide eyes, and he looked a little pale. Julian blinked. "Are you all right?"

"You sing really well," Adam murmured up at him.

Julian rolled his eyes. "Well, as much as can be—" he stopped with a gasp when he saw Adam's sleeve. "What happened to you?" he grabbed his wrist and pulled it up, seeing that his cuff was drenched in red liquid.

Adam seemed to smile almost affectionately at him. "I'm fine. Don't worry about me."

"You're wounded? That's a lot of blood, did you cut yourself or some—" Julian stopped. His fingers brushed over the red liquid, but there didn't seem to be a wound. He had band-aids on his hands, but they couldn't have caused this much…

Adam waited patiently, watching Julian, who now slowly looked up at him. Julian stared at him for a moment, as though something was very slowly dawning on him.

"Adam…" Julian said slowly as his hands grew cold, staring at his self-proclaimed fanboy who seemed to look after him at every turn—one who dyed his hair blond for seemingly no reason—who knew everything superficial about him—

Every door in this House had a keycard lock. Only Stuarts had those. Anybody else who tried…would have had to break in.

"…How did you get into Stuart House…?"

And Adam just smiled.

* * *

Logan stirred again. He was sure he heard something now. It sounded like a muffled scream. It sounded like someone arguing with someone else, talking loudly. At first, he dismissed it as dreams, lingering, from when he heard his parents fight over and over as a child. That still happened from time to time, those dreams. Was it so surprising in that fog?

Then there was another scream of pain, a body hitting the floor.

A door opened. The voices rose.

"Let him go!" that sounded like Derek.

"_Derek!_" he heard Julian—it had to be Julian.

A commotion—and there was the sound of another body falling to the floor. "What did you do to him?"

"I just put him out of the way!" came a voice that he didn't recognize. "He's still alive, Julian, don't worry about him—he's not important anymore!"

"Get away from me!"

"Julian!"

Another cry of pain and a slam. Someone was panting. But it only sounded like one person now. The other one was muffled, or gone.

Logan fought through the fog, trying to hold onto these things but they slipped away from his grasp. The fog was thickening again. He was trying so hard to wake up. He had to wake up…

Something was happening—

The shrill ring of his cell phone at the side of his bed tore through the gray, jolting him awake like someone who just came through a very long dream. He winced at it as the fog blew back—taking everything he heard in it with it as it went. Everything was just that piercing sound that aggravated him, that made his head throb in pain.

He reached out and grabbed it, pulling it to his ear.

"_Logan_!"

That voice. It was Blaine. "…Blaine…?"

"_Where are you? Is Kurt with you?"_

"What…what are you talking about…?"

"_I'm at Orion Hall for the program… They said Kurt went out to find me, but he's not back yet, and he's not answering his phone. And they're looking for you. Where are you?"_

Logan blearily looked around at his surroundings. Where _was_ he? How did he even get here…? He could barely remember anything. He did remember music. A melancholy tune that sounded like a swan song. Like someone saying goodbye.

"_Logan, you still there?"_

"Yes…" Logan rubbed his eyes, feeling his head pounding. "…Stuart House. I'm in…Stuart House. I can…I can get up."

"_We just sent Bailey and the others to get you from there. I'm going to keep trying to get a hold of Kurt."_

"Okay…"

"_Logan?"_

"Yeah…?"

"…_I'm glad you're all right now._"

But he wasn't. Logan was sure he wasn't even as he hung up and pushed his head back onto the pillow. He was forgetting something important. It happened just now. He couldn't have been that lost—in his state, he didn't even know how much time had passed. It was already dark out.

But he had _heard_ something. He heard a song, he heard a goodbye…

_Wake up_… he told himself, willing himself to remember and to get up, to remember _everything_ as much as he could. There were fragments of dreams he didn't understand. But he had to know—something really important just passed by—

* * *

Adam was half-dragging, half-carrying Julian along down the path. He felt horrible about it but he really didn't have a choice. "You've been brainwashed by them," he told the actor, who was in pain, clutching the wounded arm. "You've been with them so long that you can't tell the difference between who's trying to help you and who's hurting you! Why else would you have been stuck here all this time taking this?"

Julian only coughed painfully in response.

"I'm going to show you what I made for you!" Adam told him anxiously. "I'm going to show you everything I've done! Everything! You'll understand then—you just don't see it right now! But you will—you will!"

That conviction was terrifying. It was practically a threat. "Where did the blood on your sleeve come from?" Julian choked. "Who have you hurt already, you psycho?"

"I didn't mean to hurt any of them!" Adam yelled at him, desperate. "They were getting in the way where they weren't wanted! But they're just fine! Both of them, they're up there where I'm taking you right now! Kurt and Reed were awake when I—"

"What the _hell_ did you do to Kurt?" Julian screamed. He felt frantic. He'd involved people who had nothing to do with this—Kurt was somewhere bleeding and battered and dear _god_ did he want to hurt this psychopath but if he could even move his arm properly—

"He knew everything! He was a problem, all right? I had to do something—why did you have to go and tell him?" Adam finally yelled back, throwing Julian to the ground. As soon as Julian hit the ground with a wet cracking sound, he ran to him. "Oh no—oh no, oh no! Julian, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to—"

Julian swatted his hand away. "Don't touch me!"

Adam's face hardened. He grabbed him anyway and pulled him up. "You're in pain, you don't know what you're saying." He pulled him to eye level, glaring at him. "You have no idea what's happening to you, you _don't_. I'm going to protect you, even from yourself, understand?"

Lips cracked, Julian only spat blood into his face. Adam winced but it only made him more determined. He dragged Julian towards the Art Hall. They were passing by Hanover House right at this moment—and they saw Danny Abbot come running out.

Danny had realized that Adam was no longer in the Hall the minute the Twins finished their performance. He had run to the students and asked where he went, and they could only say he excused himself.

Kurt, Blaine, Logan, and Reed were missing in action from the Warblers. He began to have a terrible feeling. He fled immediately, heading to Hanover House to see if his wayward dormmate was there. He didn't take long before he heard crying from upstairs. When he called out, it had been Laura. He couldn't get her out of the closet—it was locked tight and the knob was jammed. There was no way to turn it.

But Laura had been screaming. She had been screaming about Adam and told Danny to go don't mind her right now, to run, for the love of god, run and save the names of the people she saw on the photographs on the walls. And Danny had, intending to find the others—and only made it to the hall, past the door left open, when he saw Adam dragging Julian, wounded, past the House.

Danny gasped. He immediately ran down the hall, heading to them rapidly—heart in his throat. _Why didn't we listen to Kurt and Laura…?_

"No!" Julian choked out. "Don't come close! Stay right where you are!"

At that desperate plea, Danny skidded to a stop with a gasp, his heart in his throat at the sight of his celebrity schoolmate at the grip of the new Hanover boy. "Adam!"

The pale boy lifted the gleaming knife to the future prefect who now stood at the doorway. "Get out of my way. Get out!"

"Adam, it's me you want, not him!" Julian panted, color gone from his face. He'd seen Derek fall, he didn't want to see someone else fall. "Let Danny walk away, Adam."

"He'll tell someone. He'll tell the others." Adam shot Julian a look. "He'll tell the others and we can't talk peacefully anymore."

"No he won't! Danny—?" Julian stared.

Danny was frozen on the spot. He could see the red on Julian's arm. He could see it on the knife. And he could see the madness in his fellow Hanover's eyes. He took a deep breath and a careful step forward. Adam stepped back in answer and the knife lifted a fraction higher. Very, very slowly, he raised his palms to him. "…Adam…you don't want to do this… Look…you've hurt Julian."

"Move!" Adam snapped, eyes blazing. "Move, or I will cut you down, Daniel."

"I can't leave, you know that," Danny replied carefully, stepping a little closer. "Adam…calm down. Look at Julian. He's bleeding, and he's hurt. You're not supposed to do this to him, you know that. Put…the knife…down."

"Danny—just _go_!" Julian hissed and cringed as the grip on his wounded arm tightened.

"He can't go!" Adam changed again, looking desperately at Julian. "He'll go and tell! And then what would happen to you and me?"

"Adam," Danny stared at him intently. "Adam, if you put the knife down and you let Julian go… things'll go easier for you, I promise. Just please…don't do this." He stepped a little closer.

"I said—_stay back_!" Adam yelled. Julian suddenly grabbed at him, trying to pull him down before he could get at the Hanover boy. Danny took the chance. He lunged forward, going for the knife. A scream exploded—

—"_Danny_!"—

— "_Get away from me_!"—

— "No—_Adam_!"

There was the sound of tearing and Danny was groaning on the ground, red streaming to his shirt sleeve with horrifying speed. Julian fought Adam's grip as the more powerful boy now dragged him away. "Danny!" Julian screamed.

"Adam, stop!" Danny pushed himself up with a wince, clutching the large wound at his collarbone closed. It was deep and it was bleeding profusely already. But he forced himself to run to them. "_Adam_!" he leapt at the other boy.

Julian kicked Adam down with everything he had. Danny fell on top of Adam and all three hit the ground. There was the sound of cloth tearing and flesh being cut and Danny cried out sharply as he received another stab, this time across his side.

Adam struggled and threw Danny off him and grabbed Julian, punching him straight across the face. Julian fell unconscious at the tremendous blow from the stronger boy.

Danny lay on the earth coughing and clutching the wound at his waist. Adam panted, getting up, and spat at him. "What's a little pain to you, Danny…?" Adam snarled. "You like pain anyway, don't you?" And he kicked him straight in the face.

Danny was flung over but he remained conscious. He lay, playing dead. He could hear Adam pick Julian up, they were leaving. He waited until the footsteps began to fade and he glanced back with a wince. He saw where they were headed.

He forced himself to get up in spite of the pain blasting through him. A murdering psychopath was running around campus, he was going to get the _hell_ up and tell people. Before anything else happened.

He heard the sound of running coming to him. He saw a figure coming at him through the darkness in a limping run, breathless. He realized who it was in spite of the blood dripping into his eyes. "…Dwight?"

Dwight threw himself over Danny, panting, hauling him up. He was covered in bruises and glass cuts and he was still bleeding—but he was alive and that was all that mattered. "Which way?" he panted. "Which way, Danny?"

"Art Hall," Danny coughed saliva and blood into the ground. "They went to the Art Hall."

Dwight winced. Adam had Kurt, Reed, and Julian in there, then. If he hadn't come conscious from Adam's screaming… "Can you get up…" He helped Danny get up to his feet. "Can you run?"

"Like hell I can run—that psycho's going to kill us all!" Danny panted.

"Go get the others. Orion Hall. All the Warblers are there ,right? Get them all. Get everyone. I'm going to the Art Hall."

"_What_?"

"If no one goes now, they'll be dead, do you understand?" Dwight pushed him off. "Go! Run, Danny!" And he fled towards the Art Hall.

Danny stood panting, shaking his head. That boy was crazy. He was crazy, but he was right. If no one went there now, it might be too late. Too late because no one _listened_. "Don't get killed, you idiot!" Danny yelled at him before he ran towards Orion Hall.

* * *

"Can you hear us? Derek!"

Pain. And the voices.

"Derek! Wake up!"

_Oh man…my head… _groggy, Derek opened his eyes from where he lay on the hallway floor.

"Derek!" Bailey looked down at him worriedly along with two more Stuart Warblers, Nick and Thad. "Geez! What happened, man? Are you drunk or something?"

"What…? No…" he had a splitting headache, and felt delirious. The hall was swimming in his eyes. "Stop talking so damn loudly…!"

"What are you doing here on the floor?" Bailey asked, helping him up.

_Floor…?_ Derek looked groggily around him, trying to get to his senses. He distinctly remembered coming out Julian's room right after he finished packing his things, but…then what happened…?

Logan hit the wall as he stumbled out of his room and into the hallway. When Bailey looked up, he saw that Logan's eyes were clearing now from the hazy state. The drugs had worn off enough at last. "Finally!" he breathed. "Come on, the Warblers are going to be on soon!"

Derek looked up and saw his friend getting to his feet at last and felt startled "Logan…?"

"Where…" Logan panted as he stumbled down the hall. There was a strange expression on his face, like it was fear, "Where…is Julian?"

"Julian?" Bailey blinked, surprised. "What do you mean? Wasn't he with you here?"

"Well if he's not here, then he's probably out in Orion Hall already with the other students…" Nick began, looking confused.

"Did he say he was going…?" Thad asked the disoriented prefect.

Logan glanced away, trying to remember, opening his eyes a little wider. What did Julian say… He said he was going…? Is that why he said…

_Goodbye, Logan._

Derek, from where he was leaning against Bailey, shook his head a little, trying to remember, putting his hand to that one throbbing spot on his head—it felt like it was going to explode. _No…not that's not right… He couldn't have gone to Orion Hall… Julian…_

Something had happened—

"_Derek!"_

"_Move—NOW!"_

And the last thing he heard was Julian crying out—before impact.

"Derek, you're bleeding!" Bailey choked in shock.

Derek drew back his hand. That painful spot in his head—he looked at his hand and saw red. The pain was too much and he couldn't think. He closed his eyes and sank a little.

"Derek!" Logan grabbed his arm to stop him from falling.

"Nick and I will take him to the clinic—get out of here, Logan!" Thad immediately said, white as a sheet. "You've got to be in the hall, maybe you're singing lead—you have to go! Bailey, get him out of here!"

"Logan—" Derek grabbed his friend's wrist, feeling the darkness creep upon him again. There was something more important here—something bigger was at stake—

"What did he mean by goodbye?" Logan asked, looking at him, waiting expectantly for an answer as Bailey pulled on his arm. "Derek!"

"_Derek!"_

"_Move—NOW!"_

_That voice…and Julian…that guy…!_ Derek sank into Nick and Thad. "Logan…go…"

"Go on! We've got him!"

The last thing he saw before blacking out was a red petal, crushed by a footstep, as Bailey and Logan fled the hallway. Derek struggled to stay conscious—for his friends. He had to stay awake—he had to warn someone, anyone—

_Logan…help Julian…you have to help…_

"Oh man," Nick paled at the sight of their classmate who just fainted entirely. "What happened to him? What was up with Logan?"

"Whatever it is—let's get him out of here and into the clinic first," Thad replied as they hastily hauled Derek down the hall.

"And then?"

Thad swallowed, looking more scared than he'd like to show. "We need to get Murdoch, or at least tell Harvey. Someone. Anyone! This is no joke—I think Derek just got attacked. We need the police."

* * *

"Stop crying, Alice. Or you'll drown us all in your tears."

Kurt only choked at him angrily from where he was still gagged with Reed. He had been struggling against his bonds and he'd just nearly managed to get one hand loose when Adam came in again. He was carrying Julian with him, and Julian was bleeding, unconscious. Kurt screamed at him through his gag. Reed was crying openly. Kurt was frankly afraid for him—Reed had been going in and out of consciousness and his head hadn't stopped bleeding. He needed medical attention and he needed it fast. Kurt knew his leg was going numb. It was probably broken but he wasn't sure.

Adam had laid Julian down on the floor, using his blazer to cushion his head carefully. He wiped away the blood from him with every gentleness possible, and he watched over him carefully as Kurt struggled to surreptitiously loosen his bindings. Almost there…

"We're going to be happy soon, Julian…" Adam was saying. He looked at Kurt and smiled—he looked scared, expectant, and rather happy at the same time. "You'll see you were wrong. You were wrong to try and push him to Logan, Kurt. You were wrong."

_You're insane. You're insane and you're going to kill us all. You're going to get yours as soon as I get my hands out of this—!_

And worse, Kurt heard the sound of things collapsing downstairs, and heart building. He wasn't a praying guy, he really wasn't—he really didn't think there would be someone up there listening—but if there was someone—if there was _anyone—_then please, don't let that sound be what he thought it was.

It sounded like crackling.

It sounded like fire.

From in front of him, he saw Adam lean down and very gently give the unconscious Julian a fervent kiss. Kurt closed his eyes in supplication. _…Someone help us._

* * *

"Blaine?" Bailey said in surprise the moment he saw the boy running to them. "What are you doing out here?"

Blaine ran up to them, breathless and white as a sheet. "I couldn't wait any longer. I can't find Kurt anywhere, he left me a hundred voicemails but now he's not answering. I can't find him. Logan please tell me you know something."

"Kurt's missing…?" Logan turned white, panting. "What do you mean he's missing, where could he be?"

"That's what I need to know!" Blaine nearly yelled at him, terribly apprehensive. He shakily ran a hand through his hair, looking around. "I have to find Kurt—he hasn't acted like himself for the past two days—I need to find him. Something's gone wrong and I _need to find him!_"

"Bailey, go ahead to Warblers' Hall," Logan told the boy next to him, peeling away from his grasp. "Tell them that we've got people missing. Find out if Julian _is_ there. I have to find Kurt first."

"What?" Bailey stared at them both. "No! Logan, you can't be running around right now, you're not well!"

"I don't care!" Logan yelled back. "I have to find Kurt! Blaine, do you have _any_ clue at all?"

The future Windsor prefect looked distressed, trying to think under pressure. The peril felt desperate. Time was running out from them and he could feel it. Something was happening.

_You know…there's this scene in Romeo and Juliet where…Romeo takes pause and says that he had this feeling or this…ominous sense? …I have that feeling._

Kurt knew. Kurt knew that something bad was happening. He should've paid attention, he really should have. And now he was gone, where could he be? Blaine clutched at his brows, trying to breathe and think as Logan rapidly lost patience in front of him, screaming at Bailey to go to Warblers' Hall.

"_Blaine! Logan!_"

They all looked up and gasped in horror. Danny Abbot was running to them and he was a broken mess. He looked vastly relieved to find someone out here. "Danny—!" Blaine ran to him, horror-struck, as Danny practically collapsed on him.

"Art Hall—the Art Hall!" Danny coughed. "Go—now! It was Adam—Adam knocked Julian out—he dragged him there."

"_What_?" Logan exploded, staring at him looking horrified. "No, that's not—no—that can't be—! Julian—Julian's in Orion hall—"

"No he's _not_!" Danny almost screamed through the pain wracking him. "He's been dragged by a psychopath into the Art Hall! Go help them! _Now_! God, just _help them_! It was Adam, he's the one doing this! Kurt tried to warn us but we were too late! He'd been telling us that a stalker's been giving Julian death threats all this time, and he wouldn't do anything or tell someone or anything—" he choked and tried to stand, visibly shaking in effort."

"Kurt…" Blaine thought he was going to die. "Oh god, this was it. This was why Kurt was acting so strange. He was trying to find it all out! And now he's…"

Logan stepped back trying to process all this. This was too much in one go.

Julian had a stalker. Julian was getting death threats. Kurt was missing—he was trying to find out everything—and now Julian was missing too and Danny comes running all bloodied up—

"_Get out of my room or I will make you."_

"_I'm not an idiot and you don't have to treat me like one. You've been keeping something from me, the both of you. You don't think I notice that you only ever allow Derek near you? That you're losing weight and haven't been sleeping?"_

"_You don't get to suddenly pretend like you care."_

Julian didn't tell him anything. But he'd told Kurt. And Kurt had been trying to figure it all out—

"_How did this happen?"_

"_You're asking me?"_

"_Well clearly you should know given the situation—"_

"_He was the one giving me a hard time here—"_

"_Him? He's the drugged one!"_

"_His medication isn't exactly in my checklist!"_

"_Well clearly it should be."_

"_I'm sorry…did I miss something?"_

The fog receded fast. Leaving memories that he should have paid attention to. Signs he and Blaine should've seen, signs they should have paid attention to—

Kurt had been talking about it, he and Julian had, right in front of him—

And Derek…

"_You know what, I didn't think I would ever say this, but I'm kind of glad you're going! I don't have to worry about you running around in this vastly-underprotected-but-should-be-better-protected school where you wouldn't listen to me about needing help and now Logan is drugged and there's probably a psycho maniac running around school!"_

Someone was targeting them all. Everyone close to him. That was why Julian was pulling away. That was why he could only tell Derek—he knew Logan wouldn't be quiet about it—he wouldn't let it just _be_ quiet—he'd get angry—

"_It's been a good three years though…right?"_

And he said goodbye because he was leaving.

And then Derek on the floor—

—the screaming—

Too much to take—all of it coming together in one single second of pure horror.

"Blaine!" Bailey suddenly cried as the other boy now staring running in a direct line towards the Art Hall. "Blaine! He's going to get killed if he goes by himself!"

"I'm going after them!" Logan broke into a sprint. "Go to Orion!" he yelled, going after Blaine instantly. "Sound the alarm—something, _anything_! Get them to the Art Hall _now_!"

Bailey stood, stricken, not knowing what exactly to do at this point. And then Danny blacked out. Bailey hissed under his breath and grabbed him. He was bleeding too fast.

He had to get him help—everyone was at Orion. He'd take Danny there.

And pray to whoever listening that they'll make it to help Blaine and Logan.

* * *

"Kurt."

Kurt looked up from where he was about to break his wrist in trying to free himself from his bindings. He saw Julian stirring, trying to get up. Kurt felt his heart jump to his throat. He had seen Adam go downstairs again for just a moment, intending on securing the second floor doors.

"Kurt…" Julian crawled up to him and immediately started trying to untie him. Unlike them, he wasn't bound. "Kurt, say something." He untied the gag.

"Oh god," Kurt breathe out, staring at him. "What are we going to do?" he gasped. "Julian?"

"You have to get out," Julian coughed. "How badly hurt are you? Can you get up?"

"I don't think I can run…" Kurt replied honestly. But he glanced at Reed, who looked unconscious again. "But he's been bleeding out. We have to get him out."

"I can't go," Julian whispered. "It's me he wants. I have to stay. But I can get you out of here." He freed Kurt's hands. "Then you have to go out, and call for help. At the very least, you have to apprehend him."

"I think the first floor is on fire," Kurt whispered to him, rubbing his wrists and helping him undo the ties on his feet. "When he threw me into the cocktail table, I knocked a candelabra over. I think it's going on fire down there, Julian. And he's down there locking the door."

"Um…uh…" Julian tried to think fast in spite of the throbbing in his head. "Fire escape. There's a fire escape outside this room, down the hall. Do you know it?"

"Yes." Kurt's feet were free. He gingerly tried to move it and hissed with pain. But he could move it. Barely. He had to try. Adrenaline was already fueling him.

"Get out, both of you," Julian said as he reached for the gag on Reed's mouth. "Take Reed—get down the fire escape. I just hope he hasn't locked that." He looked around at all the flowers and the lit candles. "He prepared for this." He looked at him. "Kurt, for the record, I'm so sorry I got you into this. You don't deserve this."

"Shut up—and help me think of how to get out of here!" Kurt snapped, panicked. "Escape now, apologies later!"

"Just go!" Julian pulled him and Reed up, Kurt helping the smaller boy get up as he slowly stirred to consciousness.

The door opened. Adam walked in. Julian immediately turned to him and kept Kurt and Reed protectively behind him. Kurt clutched onto Reed and cupped a hand over his mouth to keep Reed from screaming once he realizes what was going on.

"Julian…" Adam blinked. "What are you doing?"

"Let them go, Adam," Julian said stolidly, leaning on his good leg. "It's me you want. Let Kurt and Reed go."

"They'll call for help," Adam said simply, closing the door and locking it securely, bolting it. "They can't leave."

"You miserable little psychopath, you can't _do_ this!" Kurt finally exploded. "Look at everything that you've done! Do you seriously think this is okay? All of this?"

"No…" Adam whispered as he walked forward. Kurt backed up immediately, holding Reed protectively. "It's not okay. It would've gone so much easier if everything had gone the way I planned. But it's not. And I'm forced to take drastic measures. You all brought this upon yourselves. Even you, Julian. I'm trying to help you—"

"This is not _helping me_!"

"You _saved me_!" Adam screamed. The knife was out and Reed whimpered behind Kurt's hand. "You _saved me and now I'm going to protect you! No matter what! No matter who it is!_"

Julian winced. Adam was livid and he was trembling, he was approaching them with the knife. "It's me who loves you, Julian! It's always been me and you know it! You know the way I look at you, and you know it's me all along! You and me—we'll be together now, _don't you understand that_?"

Julian screamed and leapt, diving at Adam. They slammed to the ground. "_Kurt, run_!" Julian yelled. "Get out of here now!"

Kurt grabbed Reed and forced himself to run for the doors. The two on the ground flipped over with a powerful slam from Adam.

"Stop right there!" Adam snarled, holding the blade to Julian's neck.

Kurt and Reed froze in horror. Julian was panting as he stared at the knife blade at his neck. "If you even _try_ to come near that door…" Adam growled, almost inhuman at this point, "I'm going to kill him _right now_!"

"You…you can't—you love Julian, you can't!" Kurt shot back, heart in his throat and barely able to breathe.

Julian cried out as the knife sliced clean over one of his shoulders before it got held to his neck again. Adam glared at the two. "I said—move…from that door."

Reed clutched at Kurt and shook his head at him. Kurt was torn between being inches from freedom and the sight of his schoolmate on the ground with a knife to his neck.

"Kurt…fucking _run!_" Julian choked. "For once—_don't care_ and just _go_!"

Adam made a single swift move—the blade suddenly got thrust to him so close that it ended an inch between his eyes. Kurt cried out, "Stop! All right." He stepped back from the door, taking Reed with him. "All right… Let Julian go, Adam."

Kurt and Reed were trapped. Julian cursed under his breath, miserably helpless. _What have I done…? I'm so sorry, Kurt. I didn't mean for this to happen—_

Kurt glared at Adam with all the hatred he could muster, hating him with every bone in his body. He was being made to watch.

* * *

Downstairs, Dwight was in terror. Everything in the first floor was burning already—he could see the tablecloths and the drapes catching fire. The fake flowers and the few canvases. The front desk was already igniting. And from above, he could see fire starting on the second floor. Sooner or later, it was going to come crawling up to the third floor. The heat was already enough to trigger a bonfire.

All this, Dwight could only watch from the outside—the doors were jammed shut and he'd been trying to kick it open to no avail.

_I have to do something. Anything. I can't just watch this. I can't watch this. I can't—! I won't let him hurt them—!_

He slammed his body into the door again, sending pain splintering everywhere. He heard footsteps running up behind him like track runners. He whirled around and saw Blaine and Logan heading for him. Finally!

"Come on!" he yelled. "We have to open the door!"

"Everything is on fire," Blaine panted the moment he got there. He could see the flames licking the curtains. "Why isn't the alarm going off?"

Dwight, a veteran of diffusing alarm systems after spending so much time with the Twins and having his own experience in breaking into places, shook his head. "Before the fire got too bad, I looked inside through the big windows and I saw the fire alarm control panel hanging open—all the light in it erewas completely dead. Power box is down too."

"That son of a—" Logan kicked the door angrily. "He'd been preparing for this! He really had everything worked out—"

"Not now, Logan!" Blaine snapped angrily. "Kurt is up there with a freaking psychopath! Now, on three. One. Two—"

All three boys threw themselves into the doors—which splintered open at last. With all three of them pushing through the splinters, they finally got them open. The first floor fire roared up at them. "Go!" Dwight yelled, looking around at the fires that was spreading. "Go get them or something, I'll clear a way out if I can!" He walked to the nearest fire extinguisher, kicked the glass open and took it out. Logan reached in next to him and pulled out the axe.

Blaine stared at him as Logan approached with the axe. Logan gave him a look. "I'd like to say it's for breaking doors open, but if I have to…"

At this point Blaine didn't want to stop to think about that. All he knew was that the love of his life was upstairs and possibly being held at gunpoint for all he knew. He had to get upstairs, hell or high water. Dwight yelled, already beginning to spray, "Go! They'll be at the third floor! Get out of here!"

The two boys didn't wait. Leaving Dwight to fight the fires downstairs, they headed up to the second floor and found the doors locked. Blaine and Logan fought against the door now, trying to hack at it with the axe, and kicking at them to make them give way. There were hundreds of candles on the second floor—more than just the ones at the candelabras. Candles had been on every surface—and now they were melting fast, causing fire to spring up from the nearby paintings. The heat was so furious downstairs that it was starting to get upstairs as well. The candles were melting fast.

That was when the explosion in the first floor happened.

* * *

Reed screamed from upstairs as nearly the entire building was rocked by the blow coming from downstairs, making all the windows vibrate. Adam kept clasped to Julian even as he looked up at the sound. "What the hell was that?" Kurt gasped.

"The art supply closet!" Reed gasped. "There're flammable paints in the closet downstairs—it must have exploded!"

"Didn't you say there was one on every floor?" Kurt whispered, staring at him. Reed stared at him with wide, scared eyes, as the roar of the fire grew louder. But Kurt whirled around and glared at Adam.

"There's no way on Earth nobody wouldn't have heard that," he panted. "It's over, Adam, it's all over! If you let us go, they'll go easy on you—"

"Shut up!" Adam screamed at him, hysterical, and the blade biting a thin line into Julian's neck from the wall. "You don't know anything! _You don't know what everything being over for you means! All of you_! You haven't seen _real_ desperation and _real_ fright! You don't know anything! You don't know how far someone would go when they're desperate—so it's not over until _I say it's over!_"

Julian coughed, making the blade bite a little deeper. Reed clutched tightly onto Kurt, horrified.

"You see? You see, Julian?" Adam looked at his idol again, eyes wide, completely blown out and intense. "You see what I'd go through for you, Julian? Don't you see? None of them would do this for you, no one. No one would put themselves through this but me. It's me—I'm the one you love, haven't you realized that yet?"

Julian only closed his eyes, fighting back the urge to break down. "I don't…I don't even _know_ you…" he choked.

"Yes, you _do_!" Adam screamed, his mood changing at breakneck speed. "You know me! You _looked at me!_ You let me look after you, you _know_ the one meant to protect you and look after you!"

"This isn't protecting me!"

"I'm saving you from yourself," Adam told him quickly, nodding anxiously. "Yes. I am. Because you need to be saved."

"_Kurt!_" came a shout from downstairs, coming over the roar of the flames. "_Kurt! Can you hear me?_"

Kurt looked up, feeling absolute relief flood his senses. "Blaine?"

* * *

Downstairs, people were coming in a sprint, a great crowd, mainly students, who were coming in from Orion Hall. They were not running, they were literally _sprinting—_and the first to the scene were the Warblers who were alerted first of what had happened. The students were the first to come running when they saw their schoolmates going—and the rest of the teachers came racing when the first explosion rocked the campus.

Wes and David looked up in shock at the Art Hall, which was catching fire quickly. There was just no sign of anyone up there—the flames were lighting every window.

"They're in there?" David hissed with a gasp.

"Someone call 911!" Charlie commanded.

"Are there people in there?" Justin demanded to the others, face as white as a sheet.

"That's what Tipton and Abbot told us!" David reported quickly, trying to catch his breath. "Logan, Blaine, Kurt, Julian and I guess Reed is in there with them too!"

"No!" Shane cried, looking horrified.

"And Dwight," Laura—released by the Hanovers that Justin had given instructions to the moment he heard about her from Danny—went with them, looking apprehensive, looking up at the building

There was a rustle through the grass and Charlie cried out as two golden blurs leapt in without hesitation right into the blaze at the doors. The Twins had plunged into the inferno and instantly vanished beyond it. "Evan! Ethan!" he rushed in after them.

"Charlie, are you insane?" Justin yelled as Wes broke ranks and ran in as well. With a cry of alarm, Justin plunged into the blaze as well after them.

"Whoa—!" everyone else grabbed David back before he had any ideas and followed after his best friend.

"Let me go!" David screamed. "Wes, _you idiot get out of there!_"

"Reed!" Shane was screaming as the other Dalton boys struggled to keep him from going in. The teachers who came early were already blocking the way, trying to keep anyone else from diving into the fire. "I have to go help Blaine and Reed!" Shane's scream was positively heartbreaking.

And from next to him, a body who wasn't being held back slipped through the cordon of officials and ran in as well. Shane screamed. "_Micah!_"

"_Stay back!_" Micah yelled back at him as he disappeared into the fire.

"Somebody get the fire department and get those boys out of there!" Ramsey yelled over the fray. "No one else is diving in there, _no one_!"

David stared into the flames, rising upwards to the third floor. "Oh my god…" he whispered.

* * *

Without warning, a second explosion rocked the entire building as the second floor art supply closet combusted entirely, making the building shake. Kurt and Reed fell to the ground, clutching at the floor, screaming. Adam held Julian to the wall, panting, glaring around at his surroundings. Outside this inner room, out at the third floor, he could smell flowers catching fire.

When they heard glass breaking. Glass like the doors.

"What the—" Adam panted, frowning.

The double doors of the inner room smashed open and Logan and Blaine came flying in, both of them sporting cuts and bruises at the wake of two explosions from downstairs—both of them had lost their blazers already, and Blaine's right sleeve was terribly scorched. The sight of Kurt and Reed on the ground and Julian held at knifepoint was what the scene they walked in to.

All eyes flew to the axe in Logan's hand.

"Oh my god," Kurt gasped.

"_Kurt!_" Blaine ran desperately to him, trying to help him up. "Kurt…can you get up?"

"Nobody move!" Adam screamed at them all, his body quaking as he held the knife between Julian's eyes. "All of you!" He looked close to tears and hysterical. "_You've ruined everything! Everything_! All of you! Especially _you_!" he screamed at the Stuart prefect.

Julian stared in horror at Logan. "What are you _doing_ in here?" he screamed. "You're not supposed to be here!"

"Shut up, Julian!" Logan shot back at him as he gripped the axe. He stared at Adam and Julian, and then to where the others are. His eyes traveled Kurt's wounded form, being helped up by Blaine. He looked back at Adam. "You did all this…? You…?"

"That's the problem with you," Adam hissed angrily. "You're hideously self-centered. You have no _idea _how much pain you've given everyone!"

"_Me?_" Logan exploded furiously. "Look at what you've done! Look at everything you've done!"

"It was all because of _you!_" Adam screamed back at him, the blade inching closer to Julian, making Kurt gasp. Adam looked to Julian now. "And _you!_ This is all because you both wouldn't just let things go the way I planned for us!"

"There is no _us_!" Julian choked back. "You're a raving lunatic and you've done nothing but _hurt_ everyone!"

"_What makes me so different from him_?" Adam screamed, pointing to Logan. "_Isn't he like that too_? Doesn't he hurt everyone too? But you still—you still—" He couldn't continue. Kurt's heart stopped. _No…no, don't do this…not here…not now…_

Adam looked at Julian angrily, aiming the knife. "Tell him."

"No," Julian whispered. This was the one thing in the world he didn't want to have to tell Logan, not at a time like this. "No, please—"

"_Tell him why you stayed in this school!_" Adam snarled as the blade bit into this cheek. "_Tell him_ why you were so desperate to keep him out of this! _Tell him_ why I decided to drug him! _Tell him why I hate him!_"

Logan was breathing hard, staring at the madman with the knife, holding it to his friend's head. "Julian…" he murmured, white as a sheet unnerved. Kurt shook his head, tears racing to his eyes as he gripped onto Blaine, who held him protectively. "No, Julian, don't…" Kurt whispered. No one should have to be forced and not like this. Especially not like this—!

"Tell him or I will!" Adam screamed. He slammed the blade down and it slashed down at the side of Julian's neck.

"No!" Logan cried out.

"Adam, stop it! Just _stop_!" Kurt yelled.

"_Tell him or I'll kill him, Julian—I will!_" Adam screamed.

"All right!" Julian choked out, weeping openly now—his entire emotional reservoir completely tapped out. He couldn't do this anymore—it was life or death. They were all going to die and it was his fault. He did all of this. There was just no reason to keep fighting for facades anymore. It was too stupid. It was too worthless.

"Julian…" Kurt choked, crying.

Julian raised his eyes to the blond boy standing amidst the growing glow of the flames. He made a stifled sob even as Logan shook his head as though begging him not to say it.

Maybe throughout this—him finding out—him being here—he already knew somewhere in the back of his mind. Maybe all the pieces clicked the moment he found everything out, he just didn't consciously acknowledge it.

Maybe he didn't want to believe it.

Because that was just too tragic. Even for them.

That was too horrendously tragic to happen to anyone.

Julian lowered his eyes an instant and raised them back to Logan. "…I'm in love with you."

Logan closed his eyes and stifled a sob of anguish that had been building in his throat. He wasn't hearing this. He didn't want to hear this. This is stupid. This couldn't be true. This was Julian. That lordly idiot. Who was never even _around—_No, this wasn't happening—

"No…" he choked. "That's…" he shook his head, "That's impossible, this is…this can't be…"

Kurt broke down against Blaine, who stared on in shock, hugging him tightly.

When Julian didn't speak again, Adam lunged at him. Julian pressed back against the wall and choked, "I've been in love with you since we were freshmen! Three years! And…And I kept leaving…every time you would fall for someone else." His eyes flicked to Blaine and Kurt.

Logan was shaking his head, stepping back. "No—no, that's not true! There's no way you could've—there's—I would've _at least_—" He stared up at him.

Julian only stared miserably back at him. "I was going to leave—I gave up on you. I tried to help you with Kurt in every way I can, but nothing worked. And I got too worked up—it affected me too much. After the fair, I just gave up. I couldn't stand watching you watch Kurt and completely look through me—you've never loved anyone like you loved him and it was just too hard for me to watch—!"

"Shut up—!"

"—But then Adam didn't want me to leave. So I thought if I stayed, I could protect you by being close. I didn't want to tell you, it would've killed me to tell you. And then he would've gone after you. And he did. After he drugged you—after he drugged you it was only then I realized how much shit I just condemned you to by staying—"

"_Be quiet_—!"

Julian hesitated again. Adam aimed the knife down, forcing him to continue, "And now that I've told you everything—because this is everything I've kept to myself all these years—now that I've told you everything—can you just _please…for the love of God_, Logan…forget everything I just said—and leave while you can! Get the hell out of here—_all of you_!"

"Julian, _shut up!_" Logan screamed. This couldn't be real. This was a nightmare—

Julian choked back a sob. Adam laughed out loud at this, almost triumphant. He looked back at Logan. "You see? You see now what you've put him through all these years? You didn't even notice. You were so blind. You didn't even notice that someone who you have the nerve to call a best friend felt that way about you—you don't deserve him—and he's mine now. You will never see him again—_you hear me_? He's mine now!"

No one but Reed knew how exactly it happened. While Julian was talking, while Adam had his eyes intently on Julian and Logan, Blaine had crept away, putting Kurt in a safe spot as he did, and the moment he saw Adam pull the knife back just far enough, he leapt at him from the side.

"_Blaine_!" Kurt screamed as Blaine tackled Adam to the ground, wrestling the knife away from him.

"Run!" Blaine cried out from the ground as Julian fell. "Kurt, Reed—_run_!"

Adam swung and punched Blaine, sending him reeling for an instant. He raised the knife up in a gleaming arc over him and stabbed hard down, right into Blaine's shoulder.

"_Blaine_!" Kurt cried, fighting Reed's grasp as he tried to run to him. "_No_!"

The knife was pulled out with a cry from Blaine and Adam made to stab him again—

Logan made a single swift kick right at Adam's wrist. There was a sickening snap as the knife went flying and Adam howled in pain, grasping his wrist. Julian cried out in rage, grabbed Adam by the jacket and threw him off Blaine. Blaine scrambled to his feet, stumbling backwards on his hands and knees, right into Kurt, who caught him as Logan, barely seeing what he was doing—everything was going too fast—swung the axe around with the blunt side facing forward—

There was a wet crack as it met Adam in a brutal blow right between the shoulder blades and he crumpled to the ground.

Logan stood, panting, dropping the axe immediately. Julian stumbled up to his feet, pushing up from his hands, and he limped slightly to where the others were. The four of them, Kurt, Blaine, Logan, and Julian, now stood over Adam's sprawled form, trying to catch their breaths and watching for any movement. There was none.

"I think…I think it's over," Kurt whispered, closing his eyes and feeling faint. Blaine put his good arm around him, barely feeling the stab in his shoulder, and nodded. He hugged him tight. He let out a breath in relief. They were just in time. Julian closed his eyes, feeling weak, and Logan stumbled back a step, looking sick.

That was when they heard their surroundings at last. The roar of the flames climbing, and the fact that outside them, the roof was beginning to splinter as a wall of flame came up.

"Where are you guys?" came faint shouts from downstairs.

"Up here!" Reed yelled from the door, limping to doorway of the inner room. "We're up here!"

* * *

From downstairs, there was instant elation. "Did you hear that?" Evan gasped. Wes was holding up Dwight, who they'd found collapsed on the first floor from the fumes after the first explosion.

"Are you guys all right?" Ethan cried out.

"We're—we're really badly hurt—we have to get out of here!" they heard Reed cry out shrilly. "Everything's falling apart!"

The others knew that well enough—they barely made it up the stairs before everything started to come down. It didn't help that most of the Art Hall was made of wood and glass. The heat was furnace-hot and they had all shed their blazers and ties when they started to singe.

"We can't get through this door!" Evan cried out to them from the door that led to the glass staircase up to the third floor. "It's blocked from the inside!"

There was a cracking sound and the boys looked up to see that a great chunk of plaster and floor from above was starting to fall. "Move!" Charlie cried as he and Justin, who was carrying Ms. Blumenfeld's still unconscious form, leapt apart, the boys being forced to scatter around the second floor as more debris started to fall.

All of them leapt off, screaming, to different directions—Wes slammed into a pedestal, Charlie flew into an ornamental mirror, Justin dived for cover while still holding his teacher, Micah slammed into the wall, Evan crashed sprawling by the pillars, Ethan landed by the door to the third floor, and Dwight disappeared in the cloud of smoke and debris.

* * *

"I heard a crash—!" Reed looked at the others who just came to his side. "Those idiots actually came up here in this situation?" Julian panted as he stood with them. "They better not get themselves killed—"

"Julian…too soon," Blaine glanced at him.

"It's not a joke, we're trapped in a burning building—they shouldn't have just _run in_!"

"Well _we_ have to get out of here!" Logan said, staring at the falling debris. He glanced to Kurt, who was still looking back into the inner room. "What?"

"What about him…?" Kurt muttered. "We're just going to leave his body there? …I heard he has parents."

Logan stared at him. His eyes softened a little and he reached out and put a hand on Kurt's shoulder. Kurt glanced up at him and their eyes met for a moment.

"Hey—!" Blaine grabbed Kurt and the group of them scattered as debris started to fall over them. Reed tried to move as quickly as he could to the nearest fire escape—

And but they barely reached it when there was a tremendous explosion—the third floor supply closet just combusted, and within ten feet of them.

All five of them flew off their feet—Kurt's cry, Blaine's gasp, Logan's outcry, Julian too shocked to make a sound, and Reed's scream ringing through the air—

And all five of them hit the ground.

* * *

**_In the next episode: _**_All actions have consequences. Each cause has an effect. Each choice has an outcome. Severe pressure and backlash from the incident has caused an unwelcome news to filter through the campus, amidst those who remain in the ashes of what happened at Hell Night: They were going to close down Warblerland._


	27. Blackout

**Author's Note**:

Hi, I'm CP Coulter and I'll be your author for this fic.

A year has passed since I first wrote the pilot episode for Dalton, and I can honestly say that never in my wildest dreams did I imagine that it was going to bring me to this point, that I would have written something the some people even cared to read about, let alone wait for. Each and every time I look at things readers send me, notes or artwork, gifts and videos, I am always taken by surprise. I often feel like Alice, wondering if I am still myself, and (if I were not) if I had changed so many times that I was someone else.

A long time has passed since the beginning, and I am learning about myself each day as a human being, flaws included. That it was alright to be strange, to be different, to do something that made me happy, to want to _be _happy, living each day trying to be a better person than I was yesterday. And I wanted to thank each and every one of you, friends and family, for accepting me, flaws, strangeness and all, and for helping to shape me into the person that I am. And it is a new beginning for me, this year. To learn from my mistakes, to live without regrets, to look forward to the future with hope, and to just go with what life brings.

Life has brought me you, and this story. And I am forever grateful for all of you.

As you many of you may know _**this episode has already been posted much earlier in my own website cpcoulter dot com.** This is the method that I might be using from now on. _You can check my website for news and updates about upcoming episodes.

I continue to be forever grateful for all the kindness that you have given to me, and, as always, I can only humbly present this new Episode, with love and hope, that you will enjoy reading it.

(**Disclaimer**: I do not own Glee. Glee is seriously way too awesome to be mine. All I've got are these lunatic OCs and their stories.)

* * *

**Dalton**

**Episode 27 - Blackout **

* * *

_Wes lay amidst the rubble, smoke billowing out over his head, the flickering fires casting shadows in his face. He wasn't quite moving, and when he breathed it was shallow._

_David was screaming—it took three boys to keep him held back as he cried out to the burning inferno that was the Art Hall…_

_When he stirred, just slightly, Charlie realized that he could barely breathe—as smoke began to fill the air. Beneath him were a hundred glass shards…_

"_Let me through!" Shane was screaming, his mother trying to hold him back. "My brother is in there! Reed! Micah!"_

_From where he lay at the school clinic bed, Derek stirred slightly through the darkness. He heard the others run off—he felt danger…_

_Justin coughed hard, struggling to get up on his hands and knees. Ms. Blumenfeld was still next to him—and he could see no sign of the other boys…_

_From where he was lying, Evan began to stir. He thought he heard his brother's voice…or was that his? Ethan, from where he lay at the doors, twitched his hand as he roused himself—and knew immediately his brother wasn't there…_

_He heard the crackle of the flames, of the burning wood near his ear. He felt the blood drip down his temple and his body screaming in pain. Dwight slowly opened his eyes, forcing himself to wake, forcing himself to fight this dimness…_

_There were others needed to be saved._

* * *

From the third floor, Reed didn't move from where he was lying near the debris that now blocked the fire escape. In his mind, he thought he heard Shane. He thought he heard his mother. He thought he heard the sound of the toy xylophone he had when he was little.

A distance from him, Julian lay curled on the ground next to his friend, their hands inches from each other. He couldn't breathe—the fire crackled furiously around them—he couldn't move—the injuries he sustained were beginning to numb. He couldn't feel. He couldn't feel his own breath…but he was alive, he had to be.

And slowly, from next to him, Logan began to open his eyes; the first thing he saw was Julian's hand, lying next to his. Beyond the smoke, and the orange roar, he stirred, and felt everything—the pain of the wounds, the fear, the sense of dread—everything. He saw that pale hand next to his and he saw Julian opening his eyes, but unmoving. Logan blinked away the painful sting of the smoke. "…Jules?"

The sound of Logan's voice so near made Blaine stir. Blaine lay face-down on the ground, one arm draped over the more slender body next to him. It was his first instinct when everything blew—to leap for Kurt when the world exploded. And now he lay there, not quite waking, not quite asleep…but completely aware of both worlds. He hauled himself out of that dimness now, aware only of the shallow breathing from Kurt.

Coughing, Blaine got to his knees. "Kurt…" he whispered hoarsely.

The sound of his voice, and the name it uttered, brought Logan back to the reality of the situation. His skin felt as though it was searing already, all the rest of him ached painfully, but it all only meant one thing: it was time to go, no matter what.

He immediately moved and clasped Julian's hand near him. "Jules—! Come on, get up!" his voice came out hoarse and strained, but he was sure that Julian heard, even if his friend didn't respond. He felt Julian's hand tighten on his, and then he turned behind him. "Blaine—are you and Kurt—"

Amidst the steadily growing flames, Blaine pulled him closer to him, using his body to shield him from the glare and the growing fire, and he choked out, "Kurt's unconscious! Kurt! Come on, wake up, please! Kurt!"

In the blackness of his mind, Kurt heard the fire roar. It sounded and felt as though he were in the throat of a great dragon. He imagined a great animal roaring in the darkness—in this black tunnel, racing for him.

"Kurt, say something!"

…_what's happening to us…? _He wondered as he felt the heat glow around him. His mind wandered. He remembered back before this all happened. He remembered sitting in Warblers' Hall and knowing everything. He had every suspicion and all his instincts had cried out the answer that had proven right in the end. But he had pushed it away; he hadn't wanted to believe it.

_I give myself very good advice…but I very seldom follow it…_

"Kurt!"

…_I have this terrible feeling…_ His world was starting to shake. The darkness rippled and peeled away, giving way to his senses waking. The dragon was gone but the fire remained.

"Kurt—wake up—wake up!"

…_that we ran out of time… _He could hear Blaine's voice. That was Blaine's voice—Blaine, who flew at him the instant the door blew to shreds—he heard his body thud next to his before he hit his head and things went black and everything was gone.

And there he stopped.

…_where are we now?_

…_which way should I go?_

He remembered.

"Kurt!"

_Follow the White Rabbit._

Blaine.

And amidst all this chaos, Kurt's blue eyes flew open, staring into the ceiling. A cough burst from his throat. Smoke swirled above him—flames trickled down from the walls and from the debris. He could feel Blaine take a sudden breath from next to him—he could feel his own heart pounding—he could feel the world clearing—

He was alive.

* * *

_My name is Kurt. And this is Dalton Academy._

_We didn't think Hell Night would become so literal—trapped in a blazing inferno with barely a way out. When the worst happens, it really makes you think. It makes you appreciate the times when everything was good._

_And it makes you realize how far you'd go to get those times back._

_How far _**we**_ would go, to hold on to Wonderland._

* * *

"Kurt!" endless relief flooded into Blaine and the way his voice broke made Kurt think that he must've almost been to tears. Kurt tried to speak and only ended up coughing. He clutched onto Blaine and pulled himself up, clasping at his throat. "What happened…?" he croaked. "Are you all right?"

"We have to get out of here," Blaine responded. Kurt saw that Blaine had nasty gash by the side of his head that was trickling into his uniform shirt. He must've busted it open when he hit the floor after the explosion.

"Come on—!" Logan's voice sounded from a way off. Kurt looked up and saw him getting to his feet a little unsteadily, pulling Julian up with him. "We have to go! Now!"

"Where's Reed?" Kurt demanded hoarsely as he got to his feet carefully with Blaine, his joints sending rivets of pain in protest. Blaine, holding on to him securely, looked around. Above them, soot and fragments and glowing embers dribbled down. Smoke was growing. The third floor was already a mess, but it wasn't completely hopeless…yet.

Then Kurt saw his friend, lying by the end of the hall and unmoving. "Reed!" he choked. "Over there!

Julian was nearest—he broke away from Logan for a moment; the taller boy tried to clutch him back—and ducked some spraying embers before he reached Reed. "Reed!" he leaned down for a moment as though trying to see if he was breathing. He looked up when Kurt and the others reached him.

Kurt dropped down next to his friend, heart racing. "Just breathe—come on, breathe—!" Julian panted as he tried to revive him, rouse him, something—_anything_.

Blaine shook his head and said, "We can't do this here, we have to just carry him out!"

"Wait—just wait!" Kurt protested staring at his friend's pale form. Reed just had to show some sign of still being alive—

There was a sudden choke and Reed came to life, coughing dryly. Kurt grabbed his hand and barely had time to express relief when Logan cried out sharply. "Move!"

The tall blond shoved Kurt with a force hard enough to bruise. Past the impact, Kurt saw everything happening down to the minutest detail: Logan had pushed him into Blaine's arms, who stumbled backward with him. Then Logan's hand went onto Reed's shirt and he'd pulled the smaller boy up—Julian's sleeve was clutched in his other hand—and he too leapt back with the two of them, just as a fragment of the ceiling crashed were Reed had been lying moments ago.

Kurt blinked a moment, and then suddenly time moved forward rapidly. Blaine was suddenly covering his face using his arm, shielding him from the cinders that flew when the ceiling piece hit the floor. They hadn't even noticed that the ceiling was about to come down.

Reed was coughing as he clutched against Julian to keep his balance, and the actor yelled over the roar. "We have to _go_! _Now_!"

"How?" Kurt yelled back. He pointed to the end of the corridor, where they had meant to go before the blast. It was now covered in smoldering debris. "It's blocked!"

"We have to find a way down through there!" Logan cried back, his skin scorched by the growing flames, and Kurt saw his uniform sleeves charred when he pointed down the hall to the direction of the central staircase. "It's the only way left! Blaine! Get going!"

Blaine didn't wait. He grabbed Kurt by the arm and the two of them ran down the hall. Kurt kept his arm up, coughing at the side, as more smoke and ash began to blow towards him. He could hear the others running behind them and coming fast—Logan _was_ still an athlete of some kind and since apparently Julian did all his own stunts, he should be able to keep up the pace. Kurt was most worried about Reed, who never did respond pressure well.

And this was more than enough pressure from everybody.

Fire had a sound—it roared—and it moved like it was a living thing. Kurt realized this as they entered the main hall of the third floor. It was an inferno and the heat was already making them wince. But as they reached this more open ground, they heard echoes of a sound that wasn't fire, rippling up to them. Voices crying out their names desperately.

"_Kurt_! _Blaine_!"

The two looked at each other.

That sounded a lot like their friends.

* * *

"Blaine!" Justin was yelling through the carved wooden doors that would open to the glass staircase that led to the third floor. "Kurt! Can you hear me?"

He didn't hear any response. He winced a little and looked at Ms. Blumenfeld's form leaning against the wall where the door was. He winced, coughing a little as he looked back to the roaring flames and tried to see his other friends.

"Charlie!" he yelled. "Charlie, answer me, man! Where are you?"

As for the Windsor prefect, the moment Charlie laid his hand onto the ground, he made a hiss of pain as he cut himself on the glass shards around him. They were from an object that he'd flown into during the explosion. He heard it—Justin's voice. "_Charlie!_" over the fire, from nearby.

"Over here!" he coughed out. He slowly pushed himself up, fingers ribboned with scarlet. "Justin!"

"I'm here by the door! Can you move?" The Hanover prefect asked. He couldn't see him. There was too much smoke.

"Yeah." Charlie blinked painfully through the smoke and called out to the others on the second floor. "Wes! Evan, Ethan! Dwight!"

Justin looked up when he heard a sound near him—a cough. He saw the form of another young man sprawled there, coughing in trying to get up. Justin realized that he hadn't seen him before because he had been blocked from view by one of the fallen display pillars, and had been lying unconscious. He ran over and saw Micah, who he did not recognize. "Who are you, and how the hell did you get in here?" Justin demanded as he tried to help him up, thinking that this had to be someone at Parents' Night's brother or cousin or maybe even Adam's accomplice for all he knew.

"I have to—" Micah tried to push himself up, coughing, "—help Reed—!"

Justin would have responded to this had he not seen a more pressing concern: Micah's left arm was effectively pinned under a decorative plaster pillar. Micah tried to pull it out, relieved he could even feel it at all. The pillar wasn't brutally heavy, but he was effectively stuck. Justin took the pillar and pulled it up just as Micah's pants leg caught fire. He pulled the other boy up and immediately started frantically swatting away the flames.

There was a hissing blast of chemical fume—one that quickly petered out to nothing—put Micah out. The two of them looked up and they saw Charlie nearby, panting, and dropping the last empty fire extinguisher. He saw Micah and groaned as he recognized him. "Oh great! You're here too, Micah?"

"Got another one of those?" Justin panted.

Charlie shook his head. "It was near me."

Dwight had been the one who was holding that fire extinguisher—he had held onto it with the adrenaline grip of someone who knew that it could be the way to salvation, but when they jumped out of the way of that falling debris from above, he'd lost hold of it and it had thudded and rolled to where Charlie was.

He didn't know it was gone. He simply knew that he was awakened when he thought he heard someone call his name.

Someone small and very young.

When he opened his eyes a fraction, it was someone much older who then said his name, someone who certainly hadn't been the first voice that he heard and made him wonder if he imagined it. "Hey!" Wes exhaled shakily, looking relieved. "You're okay. Come on, get up!"

Every bone in his body felt like it had been liquefied. There was no way in this universe that Dwight thought he could get up. He felt Wes' hand close over his tightly to help him. "Come on, hurry! It's getting closer!"

_What was—?_ Dwight turned his head to where Wes seemed to be looking—he saw it. It was another smoldering chunk of ceiling that was drooping down from above. Dwight didn't even want to think about how unsteady the floor of third floor must be right now if the ceiling was falling apart like this. Wes tugged at his arm as though he had intentions to amputate it and he managed to drag Dwight out of the way before it went down.

The crash sounded in the second floor, making the others look up. "Ethan?" Evan cried from one side of the fire, alarmed. "Ethan, say something! Ethan!"

The twin nearer to the doors, where the prefects were, looked up, coughing. "Evan?"

Evan, vastly relieved to hear his voice, made to step forward, but a blockade of flames stood in his way. He threw up his arm against the heat that glared up at him when he tried to come through. "Ethan!" he yelled. "I'm going to try and get to you now, okay?"

"Don't do anything stupid!" Charlie yelled back from across the way—he was holding onto the back of Ethan's shirt now, as though to keep _this_ twin from plunging into the fires to get to his brother.

Wes arrived next to Evan, limping slightly and a pitiful sight with his ruined uniform and grimy countenance. "We have to find a way through this," he panted. Dwight stood next to him, clutching his arm in pain. Everything was taking a toll on the sophomore and Wes could see that. "Charlie!" Wes yelled over the crackling. "Charlie, we're going to try and make a way through this rubble or we're never getting out of here! Get Blaine and the others out of the third floor!"

"We're _trying_!" Justin snarled as he tried to kick open the door. Something had to be jamming the other side; that was the only reason it couldn't be opened even with the full strength of both Charlie and Justin trying to crash through it.

Micah grabbed Justin. "Stop! Stop!"

"What?"

The newcomer pointed up to the ceiling. With every impact that Charlie and Justin made, the force caused the wall to vibrate and the ceiling cracks worsened. Sparks rained down. Charlie took one look at it, and tried the door again.

"Charlie, what are you doing?" Justin demanded.

"One more—just one more!" And with a splintering sound, Charlie hit the door once more—and it gave way. It cracked open, and Charlie couldn't touch the metal handle without burning himself, but it gave him a bit of a view of the other side. There was no way he'd squeeze through this, because wooden beams had fallen in the way of it, crisscrossed. This was why they couldn't open it.

No one was at the staircase. But he could see the orange glow from the third floor.

"Blaine!" Charlie yelled. "Kurt! Reed!"

* * *

Outside was no better than the inside. The call for firefighters had already gone out, and many students gathered up fire extinguishers, trying to put out the area by the door, trying to give anyone inside a way out. Some glanced up to the fire escapes and saw no one there.

The teachers and parents who were now starting to gather were horrified. The students scanned the windows for any sign of their schoolmates. After the third explosion, glass shards had gone flying and everyone was forced to back away by the teachers, who formed a barrier keeping any other student from doing anything as ridiculous as those Windsors did.

Students were running in from all directions carrying pails of water. They flung them into the first floor as hard as they could, trying to help keep the fires down or at least open a way out for those inside, but it couldn't do enough.

Howard knew that the boys didn't have very long and it was evident that every parent in the vicinity, numbers increasing by the second, was going to end up plunging in there after a missing son. One in front of him right now, a brother, was already difficult to keep at bay.

Shane hadn't stopped fighting the boys to get through. Three of the most important people in his life were in that giant bonfire. And he was standing outside of it, watching. The mere _idea_ that this was literally happening before his eyes nearly brought him to his knees.

Mrs. Anderson had materialized among the throng, and she was clutching her younger son tight. In her mind, she pushed away all desire to run in there to find her older son who had been so long ostracized. She already nearly lost Shane once, and with Blaine's situation, this was all nearly more than flesh and blood could take.

"Please…" Shane was weeping now, even as his struggles weakened. "Please let go of me, mom, please—"

"Shane, no—" Mrs. Anderson shook her head, keeping her hold tight on her son. "No, you can't go in there, Shane!"

"Please…" he was weakening, gasping for breath through his sobs. "Please…I have to—Blaine—Reed—and Micah! I have to…! Why won't you just let me…?" He broke down entirely, sinking against her.

"No, Shane…" tears laced Mrs. Anderson's eyes. "No, I can't let you go in there—I can't."

The fact that majority of the boys in the inferno were from Windsor House was not lost on anyone. Only Windsors would be crazy enough to compound to the count of those already inside by leaping into the fray in a desperate attempt to tear them all out. Valiant of them, but no one on the grounds could deny that it was weapons-grade idiotic, least of all David, who already knew how bad an idea it was but was still fighting the other boys to be let through.

Over half the things going through his mind right now was heaping insults at the boys who he had come to know as his brothers, for being so monumentally idiotic because in David's opinion, there was no reason in the _world_ that none of them should still be in there.

They just had to emerge any second now. They just _had_ to.

"Let go of me right now!" David heard cloth tear as Satoru and Todd tried to keep him back. The other two Windsors were having problems holding him back. He was stronger than they were.

"David, you can't go in there, you'll make things worse!" Satoru protested, still gripping his friend's sleeve. "We have to wait for the firefighters to get here!"

David was so worked up that he could barely think, let alone wait for any firefighters. "By then, they could all be—!"

"They're not!" Todd shot back, trying to keep their fellow Windsor back. He himself hardly had an easy time trying to believe the things he was saying. Dwight had been one of the first to go missing and knowing his roommate, he was doing more crazy things in there than the others. The "chickenheart" had always had a nearly self-destructive desire to be a hero.

David wasn't having any of it. "Then while they're still—I'm going in there to pull them out!"

"You can't!" Satoru retorted, knowing he was fighting a losing battle against David, but he was going to try anyway. It was better than having another head in there.

At this point, the Windsors' "Hatter" was furious as he rounded on the young scientist. "Why the hell not? All the others—"

And then Satoru burst, unable to hold back anymore. "Because—there's no way in!"

That was different. David stopped and turned to look at him. "What did you just—?"

Satoru was shaking, staring at him and he gestured to the flames beyond the entrance, the same one that the teachers were barring them all from. "The doorway that the Twins and the other just went through…" he pointed to the door. "Drew and Han aimed some of our lab stuff—judging by the heat and temperatures, there's debris blocking it. Like a campfire. No one is getting in anymore."

David took a shuddering breath as he looked up at the inferno. No one else is getting in. Without firefighters—at _least_—no one will be getting through. It also meant one more thing:

No one is going to get out.

"Where…" David said with an edge in his tone, his face resolute, "…is Han?"

And he might as well ask. The only conspirator who had zero intention of running into that fire was outside of it for good reasons. He was sitting not in front of the building, but to the left wing of it, where, with every upward glance, he could see flames blazing beyond the shattered glass windows. The wind fanned the flames. He was sitting fifty yards from the wall, laptop and equipment around him, as well as Drew, who had been the one to lend him anything and everything that should conceivably help him analyze the situation properly.

After he realized that without some kind of a way in or out, even the firefighters might be having problems. _Why did anyone build this place like this anyway…_? Han wondered angrily as his fingers flew over his laptop keyboard._ Why would they make it out of stuff that catches fire and breaks apart—all that wood and glass—for the sake of freaking architecture—? Why would they put that fire escape all the way there? Careless, that's what it is—_

"Come on—come on!" Drew begged from next to him, glancing worriedly at the growing roar.

"Shut up!" Han's hands were shaking hard even as they flew over the keys. "Shut up—I can't think!" His eyes flicked over all the screens he could pull up from days before—trying to see every possible exit, every window, every door—

Han looked up, eyes watering with the smoke blowing at him and he rubbed them under his glasses to hide what he dearly hoped were not tears of frustration. His friends, his schoolmates, the only actual real-life people apart from his family that he really cared about, were in there.

All he saw were flames—flames licking up the whole building. Han's hands were still shaking even as he continued to look for a way—some way, any way—

He had to find them a way out.

* * *

When the five of them reached the open area of the third floor, they knew they were in trouble.

There was something wrong with the third floor. They had been hearing cracking and splitting sounds, but the sound seemed to be coming from underneath and above them.

"This is really really bad…" Reed said under his breath before wincing again as he turned his face away from the heat for a moment.

Logan watched Kurt take a step forward into the open before he heard something crack. "Be careful!" Logan reached out and grabbed Kurt back immediately—beneath Kurt's leather-shoed feet, the floor split and gave way, leaving a foot-sized hole. The support from below had already fallen down to the second floor, and the rest of it was weakening.

"Here, take him." Logan carefully slipped Reed to Kurt and for a moment seemed to look around, Blaine doing the same. The third floor was littered by flaming things. They had to be careful.

Blaine looked wildly around for something they could use. Finally he spotted something at the far wall. "Wait here!" he cried to Kurt.

"Blaine, what are you doing?" Kurt cried as he tried to grab him back, but Blaine was running to one side of the hall where he had seen the tell-tale red box. The glass was cracked and broken already—but he pulled out the fire blanket and the fire extinguisher there. He winced as he touched it; the metal was already getting warm.

Kurt gasped as Blaine ran back to them and immediately wrapped the blanket around him. "Here," Blaine panted. "Stay under that—"

"Wait—what about you?" Kurt demanded as he tried to pull Blaine to the blanket as well, but the other boy just shook his head. "It's not meant to be used that way, but maybe it can protect you a little."

Blaine looked at Logan as he held up the single fire extinguisher and said, "We've only got this. But we all have to get to the staircase."

"Guys—" Julian never really got further than that as over them, there was a deafening crack and the ceiling threatened to collapse. He shoved Logan forward. "Go! Run!" Logan grabbed the fire extinguisher from Blaine and ran ahead, trying to blast a clear path as best he could.

"Come on!" Blaine grabbed Kurt again as they both hurtled across the third floor, Logan and Julian in the lead. Around them, the ceiling began to come down, revealing roaring waves of flames that were climbing up the beams to the roof.

Kurt kept Reed pulled under his wing as they ran, his arm and the blanket over their heads to shield them from falling embers from above, pinpricks of fire that burst with each falling wood beam.

It wasn't until he caught sight of a path that led to the doorway that he realized that Blaine had not let go of his hand this whole time. Blaine kept close to him and Reed, protective and eyes wide, reflecting the growing flames, searching for that way out—any way out—of this inferno.

Logan moved twenty paces from them, sleeves singed already, and hearing the cries of the ones in the floor down below, calling out to them. When he moved forward, Kurt saw that Julian went with him. The wounded actor didn't really have a choice—the way Logan's hand was gripping onto his wrist suggested that Logan might have been intending on breaking it.

_Let him look after Julian, then—we have other problems…_ Kurt looked wildly around. From where he and Blaine stood, they had only moments to get clear to the staircase. He could hear voices shouting up to them. That was Charlie, he could definitely hear Charlie, beckoning to them.

He felt a powerful tug—Blaine was pulling them away just as something cracked down from above and landed where Kurt and Reed last stood. Ceiling. The roof, the ceiling, it was collapsing.

"Come on!" Logan yelled from where he and Julian were closer to the staircase. Blaine grunted with effort as he tried to keep his balance, holding both Kurt and Reed up.

Blaine coughed, fighting through the smoke and the stinging in his eyes, making it difficult to navigate. He could see the two Stuarts. "This way, Blaine!" Julian cried. He pointed to the clear path. "Follow us—hurry!"

"You can do it, come on!" Logan shouted over the din.

Nodding, Blaine pulled Kurt closer and pointed to the path the other two were gesturing at. He felt Kurt's hand tighten on his. It felt like a promise—to get out of here alive together. And the Windsors made a break for it, running to the staircase.

* * *

"Charlie!" Wes yelled from the floor below. The flaming barricade that stood before him, Dwight, and Evan kept them away from Ethan, Justin, Charlie, and Micah. This same barricade of debris would make it difficult for the rest of them to get out too. It was blocking the way. They had seen it—the people on the other side were ringed by flames. They had to come up with ideas fast, the art hall was coming down. And he finally got one.

"Charlie, I've got an idea!"

Wes bolted off to one side of the main area, headed to one of the plaster pillars that had fallen over. Around him, smoke was rising as more wood charred and paper ignited.

"Wes! Wes, come back!" Dwight yelled, his face white, expecting his friend to erupt into flames any minute now. Wes ignored him and picked up the plaster pillar with both arms. "I know what I'm doing, just give me a second—!"

"We don't have that long—!" Evan howled back.

"Shut up and help me!" Wes panted as he dragged the plaster pillar to them.

"What are you doing with that?" Dwight demanded, wincing as a loud crack sounded from the beams overhead. Fortunately, nothing fell on their heads—yet.

Wes smirked at them, looking exhausted. "We're going to ram that thing." He nodded to the pile of debris.

"_Ram it_?" Dwight demanded.

Wes yelled loudly, "You guys watch yourselves, we're going to ram that pile over there! We're going to bust it apart, you hear me?"

"I thought I told you not to do anything stupid?" Charlie yelled back.

"If you haven't realized, _running into a burning building is plenty stupid for all of us already!_"

Charlie got the point. He looked back to the direction of the staircase. There was no way anyone was fitting through that gap they managed to make at the door—and from all testimonies from the people outside, there were, hopefully, five or six people to have to get through there.

Maybe Wes had the right idea. The only way to get through anything was to bust it wide open. Windsor was good at smashing into things anyway.

"Justin—I need something to break this door with!" Charlie panted. He looked wildly around. "Is there anything we can use?"

"Blaine!" Micah yelled up the stairwell. "Blaine! Kurt! Reed! Can you hear us?"

Micah pressed his ear close to the partially opened doors as the others tried to find something they could use to open that door with. He thought he heard something. A response, a cry—something beyond the flames.

There was the splintering sound of a crash as something powerful hit the pile of debris that blocked their way out. Ethan looked up and stared, waiting for the whole thing to give way and perhaps give him a clear view of his brother.

Micah called for the ones upstairs again, loudly, as Charlie ran back and tried to move him away, carrying one of the tall candelabras. That metal was searing hot, and it would be scalding Charlie's palms by now. Micah listened harder even as Charlie tried to pull him off. "Micah, you have to stop—!"

Micah shrugged him off when he heard that sound again. "I've almost got it—! A little more—!" Micah called upstairs one more time. "Blaine! Answer us!"

Another crash from the ones beyond the debris. Ethan leapt back to the others as cinders flew from the pile. The high pile began to collapse and he saw the forms of the other boys past the flickering of the flames. "You're almost there!" he cried out to them.

Micah looked up when he heard it, "We're up here!" That outcry: Blaine's voice. "Can you hear us?" He was close—and alive. Micah's heart jumped in relief and he looked up at Charlie, "I can hear them! They heard us!"

"All right, move!" Justin grabbed Micah away as Charlie wedged the candelabra through the gap and used it like a crowbar as he tried to pull the doors further open. Wood creaked and splintered and soon Justin was holding on as well, the two prefects trying to tear the door open.

Charlie looked up as he and Justin pulled with all their might—the metal starting to bend with their effort as the door refused to give way—and he saw them: atop the glass staircase. He saw Kurt and Blaine.

* * *

Kurt and Blaine looked down from the shattered glass doors that led to the staircase where they heard the echoes. Blaine's face was an honest testimony of distress and desperation as soot streaked up his cheek. He looked at Kurt. "That was Micah. That was definitely Micah!"

"Micah's in here…?" Reed asked groggily.

"I wish I could say he wasn't, but I know that voice."

"Charlie!" Kurt called down, voice cracking. He coughed and tried again. "Charlie, we're up here!"

Relief was evident in his prefect's voice even as it sounded stressed. He could hear splintering of wood downstairs. "Kurt, we're trying to get the door open now! Who's up with you?"

"Me and Blaine, Reed, Logan and Julian!"

"They're all alive?" he heard Justin say. "What happened to Adam? Oh thank god—"

Logan dropped the empty fire extinguisher, exhausted by putting out as much of the flames as he could. He looked down at Kurt and Blaine, who were a couple of steps down the stairs. They stared at the dark, flame-lit tunnel that led to the second floor doorway. "Oh no."

"Don't say oh no, Wright!" Charlie yelled. "I don't like the sound of "oh no"!"

"Charlie, there are beams blocking the door!" Blaine called down. Crisscrossed in front of the door was a pile of ceiling debris—rocked by the explosion, no doubt—and it smoldered. "It's why you can't push it open! Hinges are on the inside!"

"That's why we're trying to _wreck_ it open!" Charlie screamed back.

Kurt looked up at Blaine, trying to get a breath in the stairwell. "We have to get out of here, I don't think Reed's doing so great." He clutched his friend under the blanket.

"I'm fine…" Reed coughed.

"You're not fine," Kurt retorted, trying not to stare at the matted patch at the back of Reed's head. Kurt looked up and heard more splintering. How Charlie was managing to get that carved door open—what Charlie was even _doing _in here—he didn't know, but it had to be wrought by adrenaline. "Who's with you?"

"A whole bunch of idiots who shouldn't be—"

"_You_ followed _us_!" Ethan's voice yelled.

"Shut up, all of you!" Justin declared, furious. "Now's not the time! Ethan, help us get this door open!"

"Listen!" Julian suddenly said and looked up. The five boys in the stairwell looked up when they head the splintering sound. It sounded like it was coming from overhead. Blaine blanched immediately. The uncommon architecture of the building made it so that this stairwell acted rather like a bridge from the second floor to the third. With the fire eating at the supports, there was a huge chance that the ceiling could cave in on them.

"Okay move, let's go!" Logan declared.

The five boys carefully made their way at the glass staircase, their feet looking for steady footing on the scorched surfaces. Blaine and Logan moved ahead—Kurt was slower, as he had Reed with him, and Julian was with them to make sure nothing fell on them.

A beam slammed down from above. Kurt screamed.

"Come on!" Blaine yelled. He and Logan dived down towards the doors. Julian kept his arm around Kurt and Reed, warily looking up for falling debris as the fallen beam seemed to be the start of some kind of domino effect—more debris began to fall. Kurt kept as tucked under the fire blanket as he could with Reed. Every time he tried to pull Julian under it, the boy had just swatted him off. It was impossible to put three people under there.

"Charlie! Justin!" Blaine gasped as he and Logan reached the beams that blocked the door. To their relief, they saw that the combined strengths of the people behind the door was starting to open up a bigger gap. The beams were like a jungle gym that they had to pass through.

"Let me try." Logan grabbed one of the beams and tried to pull it up. Blaine began to help him pull it up and get it out of the way. They could feel the heat emanating from it and the two boys managed to pull it out a short way before the heat made them let the beam go.

Blaine heard Reed cry out and a large beam and some of the ceiling slammed down. Flames roared. More splitting sounds followed. "Come on, come on!" Blaine called desperately.

"Here, take Reed!" Kurt cried, passing the smaller boy and the blanket down to the two boys on the lower steps.

"Jump, Reed, go!" Blaine called. Their schoolmate winced and leapt over the flaming debris and crashed into Blaine, who just barely managed to catch him. Coughing, Reed staggered to his feet. "I'm okay," he panted.

"Get down through the beams, get out through that gap!" Logan told him. Reed looked scared. "What about Kurt?"

"Go, Reed! Hurry!" Kurt yelled out.

Blaine could hear the doors getting opened wider as Reed picked his way through the beams, ducking his head as Charlie and Justin reached out to him to pull him out the doors. There was a sharp cry from Logan as more beams and debris fell into the pile. And Blaine looked up to the other two on the upper flight.

Kurt had thrown his arm up as he turned away from the flying cinders when the debris fell again. Through the rippling air, he could see Blaine and Logan on the other side.

And it was as though they all knew—there was going to be something bad about to happen.

There's this moment that happens at certain times to a person.

Kurt knew it well, because he's had it happen to him before. There was this moment when everything hangs still, goes quiet, and you suddenly have one eternity to make a single choice that could change everything, here and now.

The flames stop jumping, the roof stops cracking, everyone goes still and a blink of an eye is all it takes. He saw everyone and everything.

He saw the terror in Blaine's eyes, the shock that wracked Logan, Reed's scream and the determination on Julian's face. Charlie's hand reaching out to them all, Justin was struggling to keep the door open, the other boys desperately trying to clear a way. Reed was almost to them.

He blinked once, amidst the smoke and soot and ash, and wondered if they were all going to make it out. He wondered if they all could.

When something was so horrible that it was like it wasn't real…It was as though your mind stops accepting it. And it happens in front of you as though you were watching yourself in it.

The roof was caving. There was only one chance left. Both Blaine and Logan looked like they were coming at the upper flight, aiming to pull them out before the beams fell again. But they wouldn't have time. It was too fast.

Kurt couldn't think. And he realized that someone had to make a choice.

He could see Blaine and Logan moving to them—the both of them trying to achieve what was essentially impossible. They could only reach out to one person in those couple of seconds—two heartbeats pass—and Kurt could see Blaine staring at him without a single hesitation in his eyes, reaching out to pull him.

Logan was the one who looked torn and scared, more so than he'd ever seen him be. Unlike Blaine, he looked as though he had no idea what to do. He didn't know who to reach out to first.

Logan's eyes seemed to flicker, looking to and fro for a moment that couldn't have been more than half a second—something you don't do on purpose, something you just do because you were following a thought process—and Kurt realized…that there was just so much more to the choice—the idea of having to _choose—_ than he could understand at this moment.

And then he saw it. One flash—from one face—who made the choice of who got that last chance.

Time had slowed almost to a stop, allowing forever to come in, to make that decision to change everything. You couldn't know what could happen after that, but it was a leap of faith.

That everything was going to be okay after.

Someone already had made a decision.

And he didn't need eternity.

Time moved.

"Kurt!" Blaine screamed.

Kurt felt it: the powerful slam on his back of an open palm, fingers splayed, forcefully _throwing_ him forward with no control over his own balance and movement—he was falling through the hot air, practically tripping all over the broken debris on the ground—

He hit another body, all the air pushed out of his lungs by the impact. He looked up and saw a pair of green eyes staring down at him, startled and confused.

And it was only then that he realized why the face of the one who pushed him looked so determined. Kurt was in Logan's arms now, the taller boy holding him, and he felt Logan's chest dip when he cried out.

"_Julian_!"

The debris crashed down. The staircase was barred now by flaming beams, more threatening to fall overhead. Cinders flew, embers rained. Blaine covered Kurt with his body, and so Kurt was now effectively pinned between both him and Logan. Kurt could see, from where he was pressed there, the boy beyond the beams that had fallen.

"Are you guys alright?" Charlie cried in panic.

"Julian—!" Logan cried out.

"Go!" Julian yelled back, effectively trapped now, with no other direction to go but the third floor. "Get out! Get out of here right now!"

"_No_!" Logan screamed. Another beam fell. Everyone leapt back.

"Get _out_!" Julian commanded furiously at the blond boy even as Blaine wrenched Kurt away and now began to back up towards the beams, but his eyes never left the two Stuarts at the impasse.

"I can't—I won't!" Logan shouted back up to his friend, the angry tears following. "I'm not leaving here without you!"

Julian stamped his foot in frustration, the smoke stinging his eyes—but somehow he wasn't sure if that was why he was crying. Maybe it was fear. Maybe it was because he heard him say something that he didn't think he would hear. Maybe it was just the desperation. "For crying out loud, Logan, just _go_! Get out of here _now_!"

"Logan, come on!" the boys at the door were yelling. Time was running out quickly. If they didn't get out now, _no one_ was getting out.

"Kurt, come on, hurry!" Blaine was ushering him down towards the tangle of beams, urging him to get to Charlie. But he glanced back to where the other two were, not knowing what to do and torn.

"We can't leave Julian here!" Kurt protested.

"Yes, you _can_!" Julian shouted back. He looked at Logan again, eyes desperate. There was only one directive in his world right now and it had nothing to do with finding himself an escape route when there was none. But someone else—the more important one—did. "Please—just _get out of here_!"

"I can't do that to you!" Logan cried furiously. This wasn't fair—this couldn't be happening—_none of this_ was supposed to happen! "You think I'm going to leave you here to die? I'm not doing that to you—!"

"You want to do something for me? You want to do something—then _get out!_ Out of this building! Save Kurt and the others—go, Logan! _Now_!"

Before another word could be said, the ceiling now began to fall all over the place. The glass staircase cracked with each impact. "Come on!" Justin yelled. "Get out of there! All of you!"

Julian made a sound—it sounded like a grunt of pain—as he shielded his eyes from the embers. He stumbled back upwards, towards the third floor. "Wait—!" Blaine shouted out, but there was just no time. The ceiling was caving in. It was time to go—Reed was already out.

Kurt watched in horror as the actor fled back upstairs. Blaine did the only thing he _could_ do at this point: to grab Logan by the back of his shirt and drag him back towards the doors. "We have to go!" he choked.

"No!" Logan was moving towards the blockage at the staircase.

But Blaine refused to let him go. "Logan, for the love of God—!"

"Let go of me! There's still time—!" Logan's eyes were fastened on his friend who was now racing upstairs, ducking the pieces of ceiling falling down. "Julian!"

"Logan!" Kurt grabbed onto him as well and he pulled so hard that he nearly sent the taller boy falling over. He hated this, he hated everything—he hated this building, this event, the fire, the stubbornness of everyone and the fact that he was now forced to leave someone in this inferno. But he'd be damned if he was going to let another one get stuck when he could still do something about this one. "Logan!" he yelled to him. "We have to go! Now! If we get out fast enough, we can tell them where Julian is and they can save him!"

And with Blaine's help, he hauled the blond boy back. Kurt ignored the struggles from Logan as he and Blaine now pulled him towards the doors, ducking through the beams. The ceiling fell fast. Not even Logan could think he could do anything now, as everything caved in. They ducked and dodged the beams, with Charlie and Justin still holding the door open.

Kurt was out first, then Blaine, then Logan. Everything on the other side crashed just as they made it out to the second floor.

"Oh my god." Kurt was panting and he was a mess. He found himself surrounded by the Windsors, and Justin, who asked, "And Julian?"

Kurt grabbed Logan's shoulder immediately, as though the reminder would cause tall boy to take flight back. Blaine shook his head, pale. "He's trapped. He's up there. We have to get out and tell the firefighters that—"

There was a sickening crash and debris flew. The barricade fell apart. And in the tunnel of flames, Wes appeared at the other side with Dwight and Evan. "Let's go, come on!" Wes screamed from the other side.

"Move!" Charlie pushed the others on. "Go! Get out, now!" He waited for Justin, who lifted up Ms. Blumenfeld again. "Come on!"

* * *

"Han, is this going to work?" Drew demanded as he, Satoru and Todd now dragged Han's "idea" up the side of the Art Hall, the side according to Han had the lowest temperature level right now. It took a number of boys to do it, it was a wonder they managed to do so at all without anyone seeing them. Spencer, Merril, Jeff, and Nick were helping them, in spite of all better judgment that this was, in fact, a truly idiotic thing to do. "Because we've done really stupid things before and this what we're doing is some pretty gold standard _stupid_ and coming from me and Satoru—"

"Do you have any other ideas?" Han snapped back.

"How do we know this thing isn't going to blow up?" Todd asked mistrustfully as they began to set it up. "How do we know it'll manage to catch them?"

Han was running out of patience and the ability to stay calm under pressure. He could hear the attempts of the rest of the school trying to douse a way into the front door—which was where a lot of the fire was gathering. It was going to be if not inefficient, futile.

So he looked to his friends and said, "Look, that thing can be up fast enough, it's going to be full of air, there's no other way out and according to all our stupid if-panic-hasn't-rattled-us calculations, anything from the second floor is within height limit, as well as the fact as this is the side of the building that has the lowest temperature and if we keep it a certain distance, it's not going to catch fire because it's upwind. But beyond all that, _we have no idea_. If you have _any_ other plans short of causing a hurricane to rain here this precise moment, I want to hear it!"

It was a plan that _no one_ should be attempting at all, but if there was anything Windsor boys loathe it's the fact that they were told that they cannot do what they wanted to do. And what they wanted to do right now was do was save the ones inside with no way out. As Todd stared at Windsor's resident "hermit", Satoru popped up from the other side of the set up.

"You guys going to keep arguing or are we gonna do something?" He leapt back as the object they had managed to drag over began to rapidly gain in size.

Less than six months ago, the twins Evan and Ethan displayed their ability to produce things that no normal human being tended to have around their living area. Todd and his crew had been trying to film a "movie" for a school project and they mentioned wishing they could do crazy stunts.

While Wes had the presence of mind to tell Todd and co. that a filming of Windsor's daily shenanigans would produce enough crazy stunt footage and explosions to fuel a Michael Bay movie, the Twins had produced something that, to this day, they could not explain why they were in possession of.

But whatever their reasons were, it was Blaine's memorable action sequence of paintball shooting while falling a storey or so (Kurt nearly getting heart failure when he witnessed it) into this double motor inflatable landing pad that caused Han to remember that they _may_ have a rough chance._Maybe._

Han watched as the stunt air landing pad began to inflate rapidly. His heart was thudding in his chest and he looked up. He grabbed Drew by the arm. "Catch their attention now while it's inflating. Sound the alarm."

"You think they'll hear it?" Drew asked he fumbled with the siren.

"They had just damn well better."

The air-raid siren filled the air. All of the boys practically covered their ears as soon as Drew began sounding it. "They're only going to be able to jump one at a time, you know that, right?" Satoru yelled, over the sound.

"That's why they have to start as soon as it's ready!" Han screamed back. "And hope to whoever's listening up there that they're only on the second floor!"

"What are you boys doing?"

The group of them looked up to see Mr. Harvey and Ms. Medel running up to them, looking aghast and covering their ears at the sound of the siren. Drew and Satoru froze, horrified that they were caught, but Han waved them on to make sure they didn't stop. Of course they would get caught, there was no way to do this without getting caught—

"What do you boys think you're doing?" Harvey roared at them over the sound.

"There's no way anyone is getting into that building fast enough!" Han yelled back, hands still covering his ears. "They're going to have to jump! And we're going to catch them!"

"Oh my god…" Medel stared at the set-up as Harvey ran off to a different direction—heading back to the front entrance of the Art Hall. Medel stared and had a thousand concerns that the boys must've already realized for themselves and had simply chosen to overlook in favor of action. It couldn't be safe, but as opposed to burning alive right this moment in the Art Hall, what choice did anyone actually have?

The window in the second floor smashed into a thousand pieces, glass tinkling down from above—a piece of wood was sailing over their heads and vanished into the trees. Everyone looked up as smoke began pouring out as though it too had been searching desperately for an escape.

Han's heart jumped. They must have heard the siren by now.

* * *

"You heard that?" Kurt gasped after his coughing fit stopped. The second floor was more maze than space by now, with the structure coming apart at the seams. It had gotten so bad, flames everywhere casting a glow as though they were in the heart of a sunset but a hundred times warmer, flanked by trenches of black smoke.

"Yes!" Blaine exclaimed. He pointed down the direction of an exhibit space—the siren noise was coming somewhere past that area. "Windsor's siren!"

"You have a _siren_? You _named_ it?" Justin managed to demand in the state of panic he was in. And considering he'd been dealing with Windsors for four years now, he was mystified that he'd never heard it.

"Rulebook says," Blaine coughed, "In an extreme moment when no other course of action can be taken—"

"—life or death situation, mainly—" Reed choked.

"—any able Windsor can sound the siren and any Windsor within hearing distance must drop absolutely everything to go to it," Charlie finished, already half dragging the others to that direction.

"You have a rule book? With that kind of rule?" Justin was aghast.

"Oh please, we know Hanover and Stuart have their own books and that they've been around for twenty-five years same as ours—"

"You're not supposed to know about that!" Logan burst out, possibly more because panic was getting the better of him. He kept looking back up to the direction of the staircase.

"Can everyone shut up, stop standing around, and just head for the siren?" Kurt finally screamed, tugging Micah along—he was the one holding Reed protectively now.

The problem, Kurt decided, was that they were clearly losing their sense of sanity when the odds where overwhelmingly against their favor, and were grasping onto what few realities they could still accept. And they were not the kind of realities that Kurt believed constituted responsible thinking at this moment.

"Come on, hurry!" Evan panted as he urged the others to go on. His brother reached him and effectively stalled there, refusing to go anywhere without him. Evan hauled him along with him. The group headed en masse towards the direction of the siren, the labyrinth of mess all around them, with Wes and the two prefects leading the pack. They couldn't crowd in the paths even if they wanted to—so much was falling from above that they had to choose when they ran forward or else be caught by something flaming that was falling.

Wes and the prefects moved ahead of the pack. Others straggled. But they all headed directly for the sound. It was definitely coming from the side of the walls that they were now facing, past the sealed windows.

"We have to get this open!" Wes looked around for something to smash the windows with. There had to be something—

A piece of smoking wood literally went flying just inches from him and it smashed through the window with all the force of the most desperate home run in a World Series championship. Except that piece of wood had been kicked.

Kurt Hummel stood panting as his stunned boyfriend stared at him. Of course his foot hurt and he had to have destroyed his patent leathers but that was beyond the point when the windows were open and redemption had to be imminent. There had been an effective piece of debris lying conveniently in front of him, and he had kicked it into the window with all the force of his days as a kicker gave him, and that was that.

Charlie kicked the rest of the now weakened glass to widen the awning that Kurt's assault had impacted upon it. Below, he saw the set-up:

A small smattering of boys was staring up at him, and the incredible inflatable landing pad that the Twins had smuggled away onto campus was filling with air very quickly. Han was leaping up and down, screaming something unintelligible through the sound of the siren. But it was obvious what he wanted him to do. "Oh my god, this has got be the gold, silver, and bronze in the idiotic stunt Olympics," Charlie muttered.

"Well?" Justin demanded from next to him. "What are you waiting for, Charlie? Choosing between jackknife or swan? Here, take her—" he promptly moved Ms. Blumenfeld into Charlie's arms, and he turned back to the blaze for the others.

"What the hell are you waiting for, Justin?" Charlie demanded, clutching onto their teacher. "Come on!"

"We still have time!" Justin shouted back as he gestured to the others that it was safe for move forward, eyes still glancing upward, careful for any debris.

"Okay, go!" Dwight yelled, gesturing for the others to hurry. Wes looked out the window and saw the landing pad starting to fill to its optimum efficiency. "Oh damn, we can only go one at a time—!"

"Charlie, you first! You've got Ms. Blumenfeld!" Justin called down.

"_What_?" Charlie looked down out the window. Could it even take two people at one go? Can it even do that?

"Charlie, what are you waiting for?" Justin demanded. "No one else is jumping out until you manage to!"

Charlie had to take point for the rest of them and that would've been so much easier if he didn't have to care about a) the landing pad catching them, or b) the fact that first to jump meant first to get out while everyone else was still inside. Danger or not, Charlie was still the damned Windsor prefect and his priority was the younger ones' safety.

The siren died. Below, Spencer howled, "Come on!"

"The landing pad's up!" Han's voice broke—he was no accustomed to raising his voice louder than what was needed to curse at a WoW guild-member. "Jump, Charlie, damn it!"

The Windsor Prefect took one more look at his best friend and then at the boys he was supposed to be protecting. He could feel Kurt's overwhelming desire to _kick_ something at him in order to make him jump.

Charlie looked down at the landing pad, clutched his teacher close—and leaped.

* * *

The boys scattered as with a loud slap, Charlie and Ms. Blumenfeld hit the landing pad. Han was in a state of panic. They didn't know what would happen if two people jumped at one go, if the pad was damaged, then no one else would get down—

"Charlie!" Ms. Medel desperately tried to grab the senior from the landing pad, fighting through the puffed waves of material. "Lily!" she managed to reach her colleague first as Charlie struggled to get out of the pad.

"Are you okay?" Drew gasped as he tried to help him. Charlie was a horrendous mess—soot, glass cuts, blood and he looked positively furious. That twist in his expression was either pain or panic, but what was important was that he was _alive_. He looked up overhead at the window. There was no sign of anyone else.

"Where are the others?" Spencer, who helped Medel with Ms. Blumenfeld, asked in alarm.

"Still up there—"Charlie fell into the ground in a disgraceful flop and the boys scrambled to help him. He shrugged them all off except Merril, who refused to be deterred, and he managed to get to his feet.

"Charlie, we have to get you out of here—!"

"I'm not going anywhere until the boys are out of there—!"

Shane came racing in from the darkness, David hard at his heels. "Where are they? Where's my brother?" Shane was talking a mile a minute and David tried to stop him from panicking.

There was a crash from overhead. People from below gasped as blast of ash and smoke blew out of the window. Something big must have fallen.

Charlie, still weak, raised his eyes up above. "Han…is that pad going to hold?"

"I hope to God it does," Han breathed.

A figure appeared in the window. It was Justin, clutching onto the edge of the pane.

* * *

That crash had been the result of the ceiling massively caving in. There was almost no time left. What was previously a clear path was now littered once again by flames. The boys had been scattered as they tried to protect themselves and each other from the flames. In all honesty, by the way everything was falling, Kurt was half-horrified that at some point, Julian was going to come falling from above.

Justin was the one to make it to the window. "He made it!" he panted to the others. "And the landing mat is still holding!"

The Twins exhaled from where they were still climbing over fallen beams, helping others through. There was barely any time to talk now, so much was falling from above and they were afraid that the entire structure would just ultimately come down to rubble.

"Hurry!" Wes panted as he helped Blaine get past one of the piles. "Come on!" he added when Blaine refused to move until Wes helped him pull Kurt over the same obstacle course of soot and flame and debris.

Blaine ignored him completely, holding securely onto Kurt's hands as he helped him over. The Twins now helped haul Reed with him. Coughing as he looked up, Kurt realized that he could hear a sound in the distance that wasn't the same siren he'd heard before. It definitely had to be the siren of the firefighters on the approach. They were almost there—almost out.

Kurt dropped down and saw Blaine and the Twins heading momentarily over to where Dwight was sprawled on the ground. "Dwight? Dwight!" he hurried to them—Blaine tried to push him to the direction of the window as though to tell him that he would deal with this and that Kurt should get to safety, but Kurt pushed his arm away.

"Dwight? Dwight, can you hear us?"

"Dwight, you have to get up, please—" Blaine looked at the Twins. "He hasn't moved?"

"Not since—"

Kurt put a hand on Dwight's back, half afraid he was injured somewhere. "Dwight?"

Dwight could hear them well enough, through the fog and the smoke in his mind. It was just that he was incapable of getting up. His body hurt everywhere—too much to somehow manage get up. And after everything he'd done today, he wondered if he even should. He couldn't bring himself to care.

"Dwight…?" he vaguely heard Kurt say.

He just wanted to sleep…

"_Dwight…?_" said someone else. That small one—that small voice again. Inwardly, Dwight smiled at the sound, wondering how it even got here.

…where _was_ here?

Without warning, he felt it—many hands grabbing onto him, as though pulling him up from very thick liquid, like tar. Dwight took a deep breath and coughed. He felt a hand on his cheek—it smelled like ash and moisturizer. "…Kurt?"

"You're okay, come on…" Kurt said, helping him lift himself up. "Come on, we're almost there, I swear—"

"Sorry—" Dwight gasped for breath as his surroundings returned to full clarity. His momentary lapse had cost him and his friends vital moments. Unacceptable. He urged Kurt back to Blaine, feeling adrenaline start pumping through his veins again. This place was hell on earth. "Go—go now, quick—!"

"Come on, let's go!" Wes was bellowing, urging them on. "Hurry before it all goes down!"

"What are you waiting for?" they could hear people screaming from outside, desperation rising to the peak.

"Okay let's go, come on!" Blaine began to pull Kurt along once more as Ethan began to grab for his brother, Micah reaching for Reed.

That was when the ceiling crashed almost entirely over their heads. Hands grabbed as feet lost foothold in an instinctive jump—Logan grabbed Blaine and the two of them hit the floor just as they heard Ethan scream, having been shoved back by Evan. Weakened by the first crash, the second fall left nearly nothing of this side of the second floor ceiling. The boys vanished in the dust and smoke clouds, but it was screaming that filled the air—

"_Kurt_!" Blaine was screaming. "Kurt, where are you?"

"Over here!" Kurt immediately tried to scramble to his feet, hands feeling scorched as Dwight pulled him and Reed up with Micah's help. "Blaine—are you—?"

"Stay back!" Dwight called out over the noise, pulling Kurt backward from the massive tangle that now separated him from Blaine, with more debris adding to the pile overhead. The trickle of falling fragments was almost steady now. Kurt, Dwight, Reed, Micah and one twin were at one side, all the others, Blaine, Logan, Wes, the other twin and Justin, were almost to the window.

Kurt coughed through the dust. "Blaine—you can make it, jump out of that window _now_!"

"_Have you lost your mind_? I'm not just leaving—"

"Get out, Ethan, go!" the twin on the other side commanded with anguish. "Just go!"

"_No_!"

Blaine felt the tug of Justin's hand on his elbow and it drove him mad. He jerked away as though it burned him. "I'm not leaving here without Kurt!" He ran forward to the mess with Logan—"Blaine! You can't do this—!" Wes screamed, "Blaine! Come back!"—the two of them trying to tear the debris out of the way with their bare hands—to no avail. This had too much weight, and not even they could get through it. It was very quickly getting engulfed in flames.

"We have to get through—" Dwight panted, eyes scanning every inch of the pile. "We have to get through—!" He leapt forward.

"What are you doing?" Kurt demanded as he clutched onto Reed.

Dwight took a large beam into his hands and with all the last of his newfound strength through adrenaline—he felt nothing anymore, it didn't weigh like anything and he could barely feel the heat—began to hoist it up. "The rest of you, jump!" he screamed. "Jump out the window now!"

"Blaine, if you don't jump out that window, I'm going to _throw_ you out there!" Justin threatened.

"Not without Kurt!" Blaine shot back. He could see the pile crumbling—someone was moving things from the other side. "What's going on?"

Justin turned his attention to Logan, "Logan, get out of here _now_!"

"But—" his eyes flickered to the ceiling first, to the third floor—_Save Kurt and the others!—_and then back at Justin, "—but what about—!"

"Logan—just _go_!" Justin screamed. "Tell the firefighters where everyone else is, go on! Go!"

"Logan, I'm going to shove you out that window—!" Wes was dragging the Stuart prefect off to the direction of the window.

"Wait—!" Logan's hand caught onto Blaine's and he pulled him with him in spite of the shorter boy's furious protests, still calling out to Kurt.

"Come on, what's the matter? Jump, for godssakes!" Han screamed from down below. The pad had already recovered and was waiting for the next jumpers.

Blaine came flying from the window—he had to have been forced to jump, he would never have left Kurt on his own—and he crashed into the mat with a powerful flop. The boys scrambled immediately to get him off it. "Blaine! Blaine, oh my god—" Han pulled his friend off it. Blaine was covered in soot and had a cut on his temple, battered and bruised.

"Blaine!" Shane ran to him the moment the boys pulled the older Anderson off the landing mat—he grabbed his brother into a hug and burst into tears. "Oh god, oh god—I thought you were—!"

Blaine held onto his brother, shaking. "Shane…" he exhaled, holding his brother as thought trying to remember this was real, and that he made it out—and then he looked up to the window again. "The others—!"

A blond boy flew off the window next and landed with a slightly less awkward thump into the mat. "Logan!" came the chorus of the other boys who started pulling him off it just as more and more students and teachers began to run towards their direction.

"Logan—!" Spencer and Merril hauled the prefect off the mat, as quickly and as carefully as they could. Logan managed to get his feet onto the ground, but he nearly fell over the next instant. He clutched onto Spencer, "Where are—"

"Logan!" from the ranks of the boys, everyone looked up to see Derek tearing past them. A lot of the other Stuarts looked worried—he still had a bandage around his head—but he stumbled to his friend desperately. "Logan! Are you all right? Where's Julian?"

Logan clutched onto his friends shoulder, eyes wild with fear, "He's still—I tried—I—"

Another blond boy came flying out the window screaming and landed onto the pad with a heavy thump. Audrey Brightman broke through the boys and tried to help her brother up. Unlike many of the other parents and guardians who thought that the siren was one of the ways the emergency was being broadcast, Audrey (who could not hear this siren) then saw that a lot of the boys running away were Windsors, just like her brothers.

She had followed them. She now grabbed onto the battered twin that had just gotten away from the mat and stared at him in the eyes.

Ethan.

"Audee!" Ethan was crying so hard that he could barely see and he clutched at her as though he were a man drowning. "Audee—Evan—Evan's still—Audee we have to _help_ _him, _please!" He was shaking so violently that he could barely sign the words right to her. Audrey grabbed his hands to stop him and tugged him close to her, not knowing what to do as Ethan continued to scream into her chest.

There was another outcry as another body slammed into the mat. David immediately tore forward as Wes coughed into the mat, struggling to free himself. "Wes!" David put both arms around him and pulled him out of the pad, already nearly to tears. "You idiot—you stupid—you—I can't believe—_are you out of your mind_?" he finally exploded in a fit of relief as he looked from him to Blaine, and then back up at the window.

"Where's Justin?" Charlie demanded. "And the others?"

"Still—" Wes coughed, gesturing up to the window.

* * *

When Kurt heard Wes all but nearly push Blaine out the window, he thought he'd cry in relief and fright and everything that came with the knowledge that the boy he loved was safe while he himself was still in this bonfire. He wondered if that had been what it was like for Julian, who watched Logan go, and Evan, who could not repress a sob when Ethan was forced to jump. The flames encroached on them, and Micah clutched onto Reed, the two of them terrified as they looked around.

Dwight absolutely refused to give in. Kurt saw Evan move to help him now, the two of them pouring their strength onto the beam Dwight was forcing upward. Kurt tore away from Micah and Reed and grabbed onto the beam, helping them pull it up.

"There has to be a way to get to you—!" Justin coughed from the other side.

"I've got this!" Dwight yelled. "Get out, Justin!"

"What are you doing?"

"If I—if we get this beam up—the others can crawl through the space and you can grab them!" Dwight yelled.

Kurt looked down at where Dwight meant. He was right. If they could lift it, there was a small space that they could get through. It was brilliant. He pushed the beam up higher with this knowledge. He could feel Micah and Reed getting up to try and do the same, but Dwight kicked Kurt in the shins suddenly.

"Quit it!" Dwight panted. "Let go! You go in first!"

"What?" Kurt gaped at him.

There was a cry of effort from the boys as the beam gave way. "Get it up to that wood sticking out like a ledge—!" Evan panted.

There was a noise of assent as they moved to do so, pulling it up to that ledge. As soon as the beam rested and they tried to let go, it threatened to topple everything over—"Whoa—!" Justin called out. "Stop! Stop, or it'll all fall on you!"

"We can_ tell_!" Evan yelled back. The wood took some of the weight, but it still needed to be held up. Everything was crumbling haphazardly. "That's it—go on! Alice, get the Dormouse and go!"

Kurt nodded shakily and also pulled onto Micah. "Wait—!" Reed cried.

"There is _no time left_!" Dwight screamed, knowing it was truer than anyone knew. He gave the beam everything he had to hold it up. Embers rained down, clothes were going to catch fire. "Evan! Go with them, I can hold this myself!"

"You can't—!"

"Yes I _can_!" Dwight yelled with the effort. "For heavenssakes _go_!"

"Dwight!" Reed screamed even as Micah and Kurt pulled him through the crawl space. "No! Dwight!"

""Just go—go now—go!" Dwight cried in alarm as everything began to collapse and fall, with him still holding the beam up. Even if he tried, he'd never make it now as the last to go. "Evan, you can make it!"

Evan forcibly shot himself through the crawl space as the entire pile collapsed with a roar that sent fire roaring everywhere and everything on the other side of the hall was now gone from vision.

"_Dwight_!" Kurt screamed in horror. He was gone! He heard him scream when it fell—

"Jump!" Justin yelled as he just barely managed to get Reed and Micah out. Evan stared in terror at the flames where they had last seen their friend and Justin had to pull him back. Kurt felt hot tears stinging his eyes and he wanted to fight back when Justin grabbed the back of his shirt but he was too weak to even fight that.

"Jump!"

* * *

Bodies landed one after another outside, everyone watching as boys began jumping from the window. There was uproar as Windsor extracted Reed from the mat, all of them carefully handing him out when they saw that he was injured.

The mat barely had time to recover when Micah slammed in next, scrambling off it after. Shane tore towards them both, grabbing onto Reed first and holding him tight, crying too hard to speak and he tugged Micah down with him, clutching onto his sleeve.

Blaine looked at them and stared up at the window desperately. Logan stood next to him, staring at that gaping hole in the glass. Who knew what went through his mind then, but Blaine only had one thought: _Please, God, please…Please, come on, I'm begging you, don't take him from me, please, please—_

A lithe body jumped and his heart leapt the same height. Blaine was racing at the mat almost before the jumper even hit it.

"_Kurt_!"

Kurt felt him—he heard Blaine and he felt his hands on him—and the first thing he did was clutch onto his strong arms and let him pull him off the pad. They hit the grassy ground and they clutched to each other tightly, weeping beyond their control. Logan reached them and stopped, staring. And then he looked up to the glass again.

"You're…oh God…" Blaine closed his eyes, tears running down his face as he held Kurt tightly. "I thought—I—"

Kurt just shook his head, rendered speechless by the entire ordeal which wasn't even finished yet. He clutched tightly onto him, sobbing in silence and just holding him. He was safe. It was safe, he was outside and he was safe and there was no fire here—just Blaine holding tightly onto him with no intention of letting go.

He swallowed and barely had the strength to turn around and look up to see a blond boy hit the mat. Ethan tore away from his sister and scrambled to his twin, pulling him out the landing pad. "Evan—Evan!" he was holding him tightly, sobbing.

The older-by-two-minutes twin only clasped at his brother who was already practically hysterical. And just as Audrey Brightman ran up to them, the landing bad barely recovering from Evan's last landing—Justin hit the pad.

Charlie pulled the Hanover prefect out of the pad quickly—Justin looked shaken. He was trembling slightly even as he held Charlie's arms. "Send people in—hurry! Houston—he's in there and he—"

"Julian!" Kurt heard Logan cry out from next to him and Blaine. It didn't even sound as though he really expect an answer. It was the yell of someone who just tried because there was nothing else he could do.

"Please, please someone—you have to help Dwight, he's still in there!" Reed wept from where was with Shane.

"Come on, Dwight," Charlie hissed as he looked desperately up at the glass.

Kurt pulled Blaine to his feet and the two of them clutched each other close as they too stared at the glass window begging for a figure to appear there. Already Kurt was sure that the paramedics and firefighters were there. They would be trying to put out the front. In minutes, they would go around the building and they'd find them all like this, in this crazy attempt to escape.

"Come on, Dwight, please…" Kurt whispered under his breath.

Dwight stumbled backwards when the entire thing collapsed. He stumbled backwards and tripped and fell to the ground. He could feel rubble raining on his face, and dust all around. The smoke thickened. His strength gave out.

In this dizzy fog, he heard his friends still—they were jumping out the window now, successfully escaped. He couldn't open his eyes fully to see, and even then, he was sure he wasn't going to see anything.

What was it that movie said?

_Keep knocking on the devil's door long enough, and sooner or later, someone's going to answer you._ Dwight closed his eyes. All the things he had been doing, feigning being some kind of hero…they were paltry things compared to what he saw before him the moment he saw his friends were in actual danger.

Being a hero in this mess was tiring, exhausting, overall a test of suffering to protect someone else while you put yourself in harm's way. But he'd thrown everything he had into it, because no one was dying on his watch again. Not now, not ever. And now, his friends were safe. It was over. It was all over.

Everything hurt. He was so tired. The place past consciousness seemed to comfortingly cool against the blaze he was in.

Thank God. It was all over.

_Dwight…? _He knew that voice. Inwardly, he smiled again.

"…Alan…" he whispered.

It was all over.

"Dwight!"

A strong hand clamped like a vise onto his arm. A fire blanket was thrown over him, and the pinpricks of the embers stopped. He was hoisted up. "Look at me, Dwight! Open your eyes!"

Startled, Dwight opened his eyes. His vision cleared and the sound returned to his ears. "What…who…"

"You'll be all right, just follow me!" Mr. Harvey said, keeping Dwight with him under the blanket, the blanket now mostly on the student.

After he had left Sylvia with the boys of Windsor, he knew that the situation was even more dire than he had initially thought. He didn't doubt that the landing pad would work. It looked like it would definitely work. But what mattered was that the boys made it through the floors and out that specific area for the whole plan to work. There was a chance that some of them would not make it out, simply because they didn't or could not take that route. With everything falling apart, it was possible.

It took him less than a second of standing in the front of the hall with the parents and the students for him to realize that those boys—_his _boys—were in there. And that there shouldn't _be_any reason to even hesitate.

A fire extinguisher, a fire blanket…

He took those things, broke through the ranks, and furiously fought his way in. He couldn't even remember how he managed it—he had felt the skin on his arms burn, and the heat could kill a man lesser armed. But for him, there was just no other option.

Kurt, the boy who changed everything. Blaine, the one who had held them together. Logan, the one who he himself had tried to pull from the brink. And the others, even the ones who were not Warblers. They were his students, all taken under his wing at some point. They all were bright, and full of life. They had everything left before them. They were his students, sons, and brothers.

He had been a Windsor once, Mr. Harvey. He was Greg of Windsor House once. He knew what it was like to hold on to a group of boys to call family. He didn't doubt the motivation that compelled all those boys who had run into the building. They were in there to protect their own.

And he went in to protect the same thing.

He was right. One was left behind. He found Dwight.

There was no way out left—the boys had been very lucky to have made it out at all. Greg looked around and tried to find another path, however small the chance could be. The last of the fire extinguisher he'd sparingly used was already being used now as he tried to find a way for him and Dwight to get out. Dwight was in a terrible state—he was weak and he could barely keep standing. He helped him move through the labyrinth. They had to get to the window.

Finally, Greg found a gap in the pile of rubble that Dwight could possibly clamber through. It was on fire. But he blasted it with the last of the fire extinguisher and tucked the blanket around the boy.

Dwight knew. He looked at his teacher in the eyes and hot tears fell. "But…"

"Go," he said in his commanding tone. His skin bled, his hair singed. He gestured to the clear path—narrow, only someone of Dwight's size and build could squeeze through that. "It won't be there long. Go, Dwight. Right now. Run, don't look back!"

"Mr. Harvey…" Dwight choked back a sob.

"I know you can do it—Hurry!"

Weeping furiously, Dwight crawled through the gap right before the rubble took it back. He landed heavily onto the messy floor, pushed himself up, and flew across the way, crying too hard to see and refusing to look back—if he saw his teacher again, he'd never make it out, it'd be too hard—

He hurled himself out the window.

Harvey stepped back.

* * *

"Dwight!"

All of Windsor grabbed the boy, pouring tears of relief when he landed on the mat. Kurt grabbed him along with the others and pulled him out of the pad. He was so weak, he could barely stand, but he didn't have to—they all practically carried him.

"Dwight—oh thank god! Dwight, can you hear us? Dwight, say something, please! Please! Dwight!"

He had never felt so many hands on him, so many voices speaking to him, coaxing life out of him. He could hear them weeping in relief, begging for him to speak—and he couldn't even recognize some of the voices. Who were these people…? Why did they care?

And in this moment, he felt his entire body go slack. All these hands on him, lifting him practically off the ground; it felt as though his body was shutting down. Blackness raced to him at full speed, and all the energy he had fled him. Lost and powerless, Dwight closed his eyes as he fell against his friends—his family—and went limp in grateful surrender.

_Dwight!_

He wanted to smile when that cheerful voice called in his mind before everything disappeared.

"Dwight!" the other boys caught him just as he fell, and he was borne amongst them carefully, mindful of the wounds that littered him. They surrounded him, staring down, not knowing what to do…helpless.

As the boys panicked, a pair of green eyes scanned the windows in the same sentiment. His eyes flickered up to the third floor. The other boys had made it out…all…except one. Even as Derek tried to pull him away, he felt his friend grow weak when the smoke and flame engulfed the window.

He remembered the staircase. He remembered being told to go. He remembered Julian running up to the third floor, without so much as a goodbye.

* * *

When Julian had run up to the third floor, he knew he was trapped. It was worse than ever, and the floor was giving way beneath him. He'd picked his way through safer ground. He thought that he could get the fire escape to open again. But he found himself finding the only remaining steady ground in the third floor—where the night had begun.

Julian fell onto the floor, on his hands and knees, coughing violently. The smoke stung his eyes. And this room…this terrible room…was the only area that didn't have a floor that threatened to collapse yet.

The roof was caving in. Fire was growing. The smoke was thickening. And when Julian looked up, he saw Adam, still lying in a prone form, on the floor. In spite of himself, Julian crawled over to him. A moment of hesitation, and he grabbed his wrist. A pulse. Adam was alive, but barely.

And then Julian suddenly had the most inappropriate desire to laugh at himself. It was a bitter, futile laugh that died too quickly in his hoarse throat.

He slumped back for a moment against the wall, trying to breathe as much as he can while he could. And revel in the fact that Logan could have been rescued by now. Would _he_ be rescued? Would anyone even make it up here, with the staircase gone?

Julian looked back to the direction of that place, where he had screamed for Logan to go. Logan had been his first and only priority and in hindsight maybe he should have thought it a little more through. But mindless idea that the blond best friend he'd had for three years was same gave him the only reason to smile even a little right now.

Logan was safe. He was going to _be_ safe.

And he wouldn't have even had to go all these things too, if it hadn't been for him. He made this mess—it was only right that he fixed it.

_All the things I've done…all the things I've tried…_

He remembered one night after he received that message from Derek—the one that told him that their friend was "forgetting" to take his medication. That night he knew—he knew that there was very little time. He'd seen what happens when Logan flew past the haze and into the fury of his rage. Self-destruction would follow and he couldn't let that happen—

"_I really think you should go to Winter Fest, sir."_

"_And why do you think that?"_

"…_there's just something you have to know. Something you have to see."_

He had tried. He thought that the only way to shake his friend back to reality was if the monster came banging at his door and reminded him. If he could compel the father to come—sure there would definitely be trouble but…maybe Logan would at least be pushed back from the brink and be bought more time. It would make him try to save himself. Enough of a scene and the others would hear. And they'd save him. And maybe…maybe his father would hear him sing and understand.

"_Logan doesn't sing," the senator looked bewildered._

_Kurt almost smiled. "Are you sure about that?"_

And then he had sung that song. Julian had stood at the entrance doors, beyond the stage lights so no one near the stage could see him. Alone, listening, watching. When Logan looked at his father and sang, Julian knew that if he ever found out that he was the one—that he had been the one to tell…

He would hate him.

_The senator walked past him down the hall, his wife Michelle in tow. Julian didn't move from where he stood._

"…_he sings very well, doesn't he, Senator? He's looks different."_

_The senator gave him a long hard look, but kept walking. But Michelle looked at him and gave him a smile—one that made Julian wonder sometimes how much she really knew of the situation past what she was letting on. She gave Julian a hug—"Thank you."—and left with the father._

Julian had blinked back the mists in his eyes, and waited until the song was over. And then he left.

_She thanked me because she didn't know. If she knew what would happen after they let Logan stay one more year…_

_I did this, didn't I?_

Yes he had.

Everything he had tried to do for him ended up going wrong. He tried to fix things with Blaine when it had been him—that went to hell. He had tried with Joshua, but that didn't work either. And now Kurt. Beautiful, brilliant, blunt Kurt—he would have been perfect for Logan, of that Julian was sure.

And he ended that too. With this.

Maybe when this was all over, Logan would realize the implications of the confession that he was forced to say when Adam held that knife to him. Maybe he would grow to hate him for not saying a word. That's good…it should be easier for him to deal with this…fiasco.

He didn't even want to know what his mother and father would say. Maybe for the first time in a while, they'd talk about something that had nothing to do with a script. Maybe Hollywood would declare it a freak accident. Maybe they'll write Grant's character off.

Lots of maybes.

It was fine to imagine.

Julian opened his eyes. He saw the hall. Reed's paintings were all ruined now. Petals were still everywhere. Everything a mess. His blood, everyone else's, was on the wood floor. It was horrible and nightmarish and he refused to die in this hell. If he was going to die—it would be by his own terms.

_I can't give up._ _I'm not going to die in here_. _Or at least…not in this room._

It was a last ditch attempt. The only way he knew. Anything was better than this hell. He crawled to the axe left on the ground. He reached down and picked it up, using both hands because he was so tired. He panted down at Adam, "You're not going to die here, you bastard. No. You're not getting away that easily. You don't get to die and get away from everything you've done. You're going to _live_ through this and face some fucking justice." And he turned to the glass windows—and hurled the axe through it.

It smashed to pieces. Julian picked up the baseball bat that still had blood on it and walloped the window open a bit wider until he couldn't be assed to do it anymore. The fire was eating away quick.

Three stories up. Fire at his back. The empty air in front of him. Julian couldn't have asked for a more dramatic setting. He reached down and pulled Adam's limp form over to him, draping his arm over his shoulders.

_I choose this._

The roof collapsed. Julian felt himself impact glass, slicing through his clothes, and skin. And in those moments, when he felt the impact, and he felt no ground beneath him, just the endless falling and the knowledge that an even greater impact was waiting…

…he wondered not of green eyes that had fascinated him for three years, but if Alice, who seemed to enjoy her fall amidst the books and furniture, feared not the falling, but the sudden stop that came after.

* * *

All the boys on the ground burst into roars of exclamation when they heard the smashing sound. Something flew through the air and vanished into the darkness. And then it happened:

An honest-to-goodness miracle from God, as everyone would say later.

A third floor window smashed as something mortal broke through it—not quite right over where the pad was, but close.

There was uproar as the two bodies that flew out hit the trees first—a branch broke. And it knocked them off course. They kept hitting branches and getting steered off course and then with nearly half a tree's crown following them in twigs and branches, two bodies slammed painfully into the pad.

There was a cry of horror from the onlookers. The second floor might have been just enough height, but nobody knew if the third floor was even an option for that landing pad. But everyone fought through the leaves and branches to find two bodies on the pad, having very nearly missed it altogether:

Adam Clavell, in a bruised heap, lay on top of Julian Larson, who had taken a lot of the impact into the branches first and then the pad.

There was a moment of pure terror when neither of them even so much as moved.

"Julian!" Kurt's cry broke the spell and he was moving to the mat. Suddenly boys were everywhere, pulling branches and twigs off. Justin was the one to pull Adam out of the mat first, and he was startled to hear him cough.

Adam was alive. Justin pulled him to the ground and lay him out. Another cough—Adam was definitely alive, and regaining consciousness. The other Hanover boys immediately moved forward to stand around him, all of them cautiously watching him.

"Oh god…" Kurt tore his eyes away from that sight and looked to the actor who lay on the pad. He hadn't moved. And he was very white. "Julian…?" he and Blaine ran to the mat just as Logan and Derek did.

"Julian!" Logan took his friend up, carrying him off the pad, but the weight made his knees buckle and they both ended up on the ground. It didn't matter. He sat up, eyes wild, clutching his friend close in his arm and pushing the bloody locks from the face that had graced so many posters and magazine pages, and the smiling photographs in his room.

"Julian…? Julian, please, open your eyes…" he clasped the cold form, begging it to show life, as though the mere touch of someone alive could revive him. "Julian, please, I'm begging, you, come on…" Logan's voice broke when his best friend simply lay there. He felt helpless, lost, and he looked around as though looking for something, _anything_ that could possibly help, and found nothing.

He looked at Kurt with a gaze that had no meaning. Kurt stared back at him, not knowing what to do or say. He simply dropped his eyes back down to the person who they could've called their mutual friend.

"Come on, Julian…" Kurt whispered, staring at him, holding his hand tight. "Julian, please."

Derek stepped back, hit a tree and slid down, unable to hold back tears as he looked up at the sky trying to wonder what they did to deserve this.

Logan choked back a sob, keeping the body close to him. After all they'd been through tonight—after all they fought for—didn't they deserve a reward? After Julian did everything he could, after he bared his heart and soul out to him, this wasn't allowed, this wasn't fair. Logan refused to be left with no choice but to take that revelation and not be able to say something, _anything_ back, no matter what it was.

This was Julian, for the love of God, this thing didn't happen to them or him! He wasn't allowed to simply say "I love you", change everything he'd known for three years, and then evaporate. That wasn't how it worked! "This isn't fair—this isn't fair, you can't do this—you can't! Please… Open your eyes…"

Kurt watched as Logan bent down and pressed his lips to Julian's singed hair.

Julian didn't move.

Kurt had to let go. He stumbled back, feeling sick, the world spinning around him. He crashed into someone and knew who it was without having to look—he simply buried himself against Blaine, trying to breathe, the whole ordeal breaking him down. Blaine's arms tightened around his body as he sobbed against him, mostly in fright, and exhaustion, and surrender.

He could hear Logan crying, begging his friend to wake, and Kurt couldn't bring himself to keep listening to it. Not when he had been so close—not when he knew everything—not when he had the chance to change things—not when he had seen him not even all that long before, still alive, and yet now…

Kurt's world spun. His knees went weak. Blaine's voice echoed in his ears—but just that, an echo. And then another sound—

_Dad…?_

He thought he heard his father call his name before his body gave in to shock and everything went black.

* * *

The hospital was very clean, and very white. Kurt didn't dream; his body was too tired, battered, and weak to do anything but shut down and recover as much as possible. He sensed, however slightly, the protective weight and warmth of his father's hand over his. But he was in such a deep sleep that he did not hear his father rise from next to his hospital bed to go to the doctors who were standing outside, trying to speak to all the parents whose children were currently within the hospital.

To say that uproar followed the end of the fire was a vast understatement. The firefighters had come and took control of the inferno before it could spread beyond the Art Hall. Each and every boy who had been in that building had been rushed to the hospital, as well as the ones left injured by Adam's wrath prior to the fire.

And from within the charred building, they retrieved the body of Mr. Gregory Harvey. He had died of suffocation before the flames encroached fully upon him, which was hardly a comfort to those he left behind.

That included those rescued boys who were still conscious—and there were few.

The damage done to both people and property was such that the administration had to corral themselves with the police in order to get a full scope of what exactly had happened, as the high-profile parents who had sent their boys to the school would not easily be pacified. So long as the parents' first concern remained toward their children, administration had time to prepare for the horrible fallout following the fire. It also didn't help that local news got wind of the event—and while it wasn't a "media circus" yet, owing to the complete lack of solid information, there was a great potential for it to be.

The parents' concerns, however, remained with the boys.

"How is he?" Burt almost breathlessly asked the doctor who had just stopped outside Kurt's door. From the moment he had heard about the fire to this very moment, he had been gripped by great fear and stress, fearing for his child who he had tried to protect with every ounce of strength he had. He had already lost his first wife. In spite of the love he felt for Carole and Finn, Kurt was one part of him that was too precious—far too precious—to be lost.

"Burt, please, calm down…you can't get worked up either…" Carole took his hand as though to soothe him, and Finn leapt to his feet, looking at the doctor.

The doctor, who had been assigned to look after Kurt, had been working in this same hospital for a long time. He was getting old and he knew it. And when he was an intern, he had worked here. He remembered that once, a long time ago, this hospital also played host to a slew of boys following an accident from the same academy. He wondered what actually went on in that school.

"Kurt has undergone quite a great deal of stress. But he's not as seriously injured as what outside appearance might suggest. He'll need a few days of stay here in the hospital to fully recover, and for us to make sure that he's out of danger." He looked intently at the father and the mother. "He will be all right. Those boys are tougher than they look, and they looked out well for each other. They'll be put to bed for a week, some of them, but I don't see permanent physical damage. Especially in Kurt's case—they seemed to have looked after him well in spite of the events. I suggest, though, that he not put too much stress on his ankle for at least two weeks. That is, by far, his worst injury. But…we'll still have to see how he takes the whole ordeal upon waking up."

Burt looked as though he would faint in relief, and Finn had to help him sit down. "He's going to be okay," Burt said it as though he were telling himself more than anyone. "He's going to be okay."

Carole was hugging him at the next moment, eyes wet but looking full of hope. Burt looked blearily around him at the other people. "Did the, uh… The other kids who didn't um…pass out, are they okay? Are they all right? Have they said anything?"

"There's a bit of the story going around," Finn replied as Mercedes—face still set like granite, the way it had been since she heard of the fiasco in Dalton—and Rachel—who looked composed for the most part, but her swollen scarlet eyes were testament to restrained distress—now approached them with the rest of New Directions.

"Is Kurt okay? Is he going to be okay?" Mercedes immediately asked.

"He's going to be okay," Finn replied. He looked back at Burt. "Some of the other boys who had been in there…they've told a bit of the story. But it's not a good one."

"Is it true?" Rachel demanded. "That some psychopath broke into the school and held them hostage up there?"

"I heard that it was someone's stalker that did all this," Quinn replied.

"I heard it was a student," Mercedes replied, shaking her head. That was when everyone started talking all at the same time about what they had heard from the parents talking and from Dalton students who were passing word along.

Finn's head was clearly swimming with all the "Well the bottom line is…someone took them all up there, set fire to the place…and the other boys got involved because they were trying to save them. Kurt had been one of the people pulled in first."

"I'm glad they all made it out, but that stunt was crazy," Puck shook his head. "Jumping out like that onto the landing pad—that takes serious balls, man."

"It was either that or being burnt, Puckerman—what would _you _have done?" Santana replied.

"Can we not talk about that right now, kids, please?" Burt interrupted, still clutching at his scalp. He exhaled. All that mattered to him right now was that his son was safe. That he was going to _stay_safe. A familiar rage that he'd been thinking of for a while now began to bubble. He had sent him to Dalton with full confidence on his safety. And he ended up with a son who was in far worse shape than ever.

Burt was not alone in this end. Dalton Academy had always been seen as sanctuary, and a safe place to send sons of privilege and keep them protected from harm. Many of the parents were livid at the proceedings. This did not only include the parents of the boys of were in the fire, but also a large percentage of the boys whose parents had sent their sons to Dalton with full confidence of their safety and the security of the school.

This security had, by this event, been shattered to pieces. A mutinous grumbling filled the waiting rooms as parents came together in packs, discussing with disgust the laxness that had let all of this come to pass.

There were, however, some parents, who simply couldn't bring themselves to dwell on such matters. No, not when boys were still at stake. They were, after all, still in the hospital.

A man wearing a crisp black suit, was walking from one parent to another—those who were still waiting for news from doctors or those who were holding vigil over beds. He and his wife were late to this entire episode, having sent his daughter ahead to watch the program earlier.

He had arrived at the worst time: just as when parents and students were peeling away from the scene, with paramedics and firefighters everywhere, and the school, which had been his own once, in flames, and being told that his two sons had been in that inferno.

"Mr. Burt Hummel?"

From where he sat, Burt looked up and saw the tall man standing there. He was very blond, and his eyes were penetratingly blue, and he looked very concerned. He looked like a banker and for a moment, Burt was confused. "Yes?"

A hand was extended to him. As Burt hesitantly shook it, the man said, "I'm Colin Brightman. What's happened to your son it's…it's a terrible, regretful thing and it should never have happened in Dalton Academy."

"Brightman?" Burt sat up a little, surprised. "Those twin boys—"

"Yes, Evan and Ethan are my sons." Colin sat down next to him, exhaling and looking anxious and tired. "They're…" he gestured weakly for a moment before running a hand through his hair with a sigh. "My wife and daughter are with them." His eyes lingered on down the hall to where, presumably, the Brightman twins could be found.

"Yes, yes, I heard that your boys, they were…" Burt shook his head, sighing.

"I have no idea how this happened," Mr. Brightman told him. His face bore signs of stress, at a level that only a few of the parents seemed to have. "I'm a businessman, Mr. Hummel. I have a lot of work to do, and I have to admit that maybe I haven't given my boys the attention they deserve… I should have at least cared about what was going on in the school."

"Yeah, well…" Burt wrung his hands, looking around at the students and the parents who were in the waiting areas, "I don't think anybody would've thought that this kind of thing would just go and happen on a big posh private school…"

"That's exactly it," Mr. Brightman remarked, looking distressed, more so at Burt's words. "I should have at least kept a better eye on how this school had been working. I suppose it was because back when I went to school here…everything worked out well enough, so I imagined that it would just keep on doing that. I should have paid better attention."

"You used to go to Dalton?"

"Yes. I didn't have a choice," Mr. Brightman gave him an odd smile. But he patted his shoulder and said, "I will do my best to make things right, Mr. Hummel. Whatever it takes. I don't think this can rest easy on my conscience—never will. All those boys…those poor boys…"

"Thank you, Mr. Brightman, but…I'm not sure what more anyone can do at this point." Burt looked grave and distant at the same time. "How could this have happened…?"

Carole walked over at this moment, looking at Burt. She gave Mr. Brightman a smile before looking at her husband. "Burt? I brought you some coffee." She handed him the steaming cup, which he took with a grateful glance at her direction before staring back at the door to Kurt's room.

"Mrs. Hummel," Mr. Brightman rose at her presence. He shook hands lightly with her. "Is your son going to be all right…?"

"Yes, yes, the doctors said he would be once he…once he wakes up. He was—he was really exhausted and his body just decided to uh…to recover as quickly as it can once he was out of there and…and safe." Her smile looked a little tight with strain. "But he…he hasn't yet. We're just…" she seemed to swallow for a moment and manage another smile, "…we're waiting."

Mr. Brightman stared at her, not really sure of how to respond to that. Instead he just smiled slightly and nodded. "I understand…"

"Colin?" came a voice that seemed to call somewhat halfheartedly from down the hall. When Mr. Brightman looked up, he saw a dignified-looking man in a crisp suit looking at him with a concerned expression. He was familiar to him, very, in spite of the fact that they hadn't seen each other in quite a while… They had been friends for a very long time, and he'd like to think they still were, especially as their sons must have seen each other very often.

"Excuse me." Mr. Brightman nodded to Burt, who nodded back, eyes still looking a little distant and as though he wasn't all there at all. Carole rubbed Burt's arm, her face still red from weeping, and still crumpled in that way that showed for all the world that she was hurting.

It took a moment before Mr. Brightman could tear his eyes away from those two parents before he rose and walked up to Mr. Sullivan, who stood a way off, giving him a sigh. "Hello, Harry," Mr. Brightman said.

"Colin." Mr. Sullivan nodded. "Been a while."

"Yes it has…"

"Didn't hope we'd meet again this way."

"I never imagined this way." Colin Ellis Brightman looked around the cold, stark white walls, and the blinding purity of the hospital—such a contrast to the dim realities that took place in it daily, such as the one it held today. "No one has."

"How are you handling it?" Harold Sullivan said to his pale friend, as the both of them sat down again a distance from the Hummels. Colin only absently gestured once again down to hall. What_could _he say? How _does_ anyone handle anything like this? He, more than most people, felt responsibility for this. "And your wife…?" Harry added in askance.

Colin only shook his head, looking shaky. "She—she's with Audrey, my daughter." He had to sit down and wring his hands.

Harry sat down next to him, nodding a little. "I understand."

"My boys…" Colin exhaled shakily but couldn't continue. He looked at his old friend. "Yours?"

Harry shook his head and managed a small smile. He was one of the more fortunate ones, he believed, because his son David hadn't actually _been _in that inferno. "My son is…he's fine. But…he wouldn't leave his friend's side. We…we tried to get him to, but…the Hughes family told him that he could stay a bit longer…"

Colin thought about his own two boys, how attached they were to each other, and understood Harry's sentiments in letting his son stay with his friend. He raised his eyes to the ceiling. "Terrible…this is…how could this happen?"

"That's what I'd like to know!"

The two Dalton alums looked up as a tall figure, pale with rage, came striding up to them after his voice boomed down the hall. Behind him, another man trailed, looking at pains to stop him. "Johnny!" Ernest Siegerson said, looking angry and alarmed. "Stop—!"

John Wright Jr. grabbed Colin by the arm and pulled him to his feet, Harry getting up immediately after. "Do you realize what just happened? Considering who the hell you are, you were supposed to make sure nothing like this could ever—that all our sons—that _my_ son—!" He looked as though he wanted to break down but pride wouldn't have it.

Colin stared back at him, unable to think of what to say. What _could_ he say? John was right—he had more responsibility to this sort of thing than the other parents. If the other parents knew the influence Colin had within the school—

Ernest was furious now and he yanked John back. "Stop it, Johnny!" he hissed angrily. "You're making a spectacle. I know that you're upset, but do you think that Colin—"

"Upset?" the senator rounded on him, livid now. "_Upset? _This is beyond—"

"_That's enough from all of you!_"

They looked up as the tall, lithe figure of a man approached them, dark eyes flashing. He looked as pale and distressed as any of them, but he was holding himself up with every ounce of will he had especially at the circumstances. "This is a damn hospital!" the man, ex-prefect of Windsor Ford Houston, hissed. He was without Agatha, his sister, for obvious reasons. "Why are you all thinking all about how all of _you_ feel right now? You think any parent or guardian in this entire place feels differently from you? What makes you so special? Do you have a right to be special? You know how many people are suffering in this hospital?"

The hall full of Legacies stood staring at him. Ford tried to catch his breath. He looked completely shaken, but controlling himself admirably. "Tell me what makes you so different. Tell me what makes you special enough to earn the right to make a ruckus like this. Tell me."

For a moment, the other fathers stared at him and then they moved apart slightly, Ernest tugging John away before he could explode some more.

Colin looked up at the ex-prefect and saw that his friend had aged Ford didn't have a son to call his own, but as far as legacy went, Ford _had_ sent a successor into the school. And everyone knew—everyone who had seen the paramedics carrying boys off—that it was his nephew Dwight who had sustained such serious damage to his body that he wasn't even conscious when he was brought away.

Dwight's condition had not yet been confirmed.

"Now all of you _pipe down_," Ford hissed. "None of the other parents are howling like this—they care about what happens to their sons _first_, then their being upset at the school _after_." He looked John right in the eyes. He must have known that the senator would try to say something back, but the truth was, compared to how Dwight was doing, John's son Logan was in better shape.

"Where _is_ your son, Johnny?" Colin asked carefully. "I saw him getting lifted out."

Logan had collapsed after they tried to take Julian from him. For a moment, when the paramedics tried to take his friend, he seemed to go into panic—this was the shock setting in—and it wasn't until Derek grabbed onto him did he collapse the way Kurt did. Ernest had swept in and pulled his son away, Derek fighting him the whole way—he hadn't wanted to leave his friends—but when John had gotten into the ambulance along with his wife and son, Logan was barely conscious enough to communicate. And then Derek sank against his father, barely able to stop the sobbing that had started not too long before, and Ernest kept his son close and also brought him away to the hospital.

"They say he's out of danger," John replied, running a hand through his blond hair. He didn't look like himself—he didn't often look agitated. And none of the men who were around him right now had seen him look this way since they'd been to school with him.

"Fancy you showing up here after all this time," Harry muttered just audibly. "I don't recall ever seeing you around during Parents' Nights, except when you popped up this year for Winter Festival—"

"I don't need you to lecture me about—" John took two steps forward and Ford was between them, glaring at them both. "Stop it. The both of you, just stop," he snarled.

"Ford," Ernest began as he glowered at John, presumably to make him shut up, "What about Rick and Pax?"

"Rick's with his son. How he's still standing, I don't know." But of course, it would take more than this to shatter the impeccable composure of Richard Bancroft. He had seen quite a bit in his life and when he had been Justin's age, this sort of thing would have almost been considered as 'Wednesday evening' for him. "He just seems glad that Justin and Laura are safe."

Harry asked, "And Pax?"

"The General doesn't arrive until later, or so I heard. He better be here." Paxton Willis would've had every viable means to get to the hospital in record time, considering the resources at his disposal. That is assuming he hadn't stopped by to demolish the school entirely with his fury before he got to the hospital.

John threw up his hands and walked a distance off, frustrated with nothing to vent it out on. From where he sat, Burt watched him go and shook his head. He hadn't known Logan very long, other than he clearly had something against Kurt and Blaine being together. But if his father couldn't even be bothered to stop ranting enough to be in his own son's room, then maybe that kid did have some problems.

Burt gave Carole a quick embrace and rose to his feet. He walked back into Kurt's room, hoping that his son would stir at any moment.

Meanwhile, Ernest shook his head. While his old friend John may have changed quite a bit since they all parted ways, there were some things about him that certainly didn't. He looked back at the others. "Rick and Pax aren't going to be thrilled."

Colin winced—he was going to catch it from Paxton, and that was for sure. Paxton's son Spencer was unharmed, at the very least, and his twin sister from Dobry Hall, Sydney, was there to keep an eye on him nevertheless. Spencer was going to and fro between Justin's room and Danny's room.

Hanover House was agog at the fact that it was one of their own that caused this mess. Windsor House could barely comprehend how many of their own had been knocked down by this blow. And Stuart House was in shambles, with their prefect _and _two of their most successful being primary targets of the event. If school legend was anything to go by, the academy didn't have an incident this bad since the big fiasco twenty-five years ago which led to multiple fires, students being expelled or sent away overseas, the old cathedral being closed off, the bell tower closed off as well, and one dead student whose name was inscribed in the memorial garden, and a threat to shut down the school altogether.

The odds looked as though this year was looking to match the precedent, which was more than the boys had ever bargained for.

While a number of the men squabbled amongst themselves, especially the ones who were Dalton Academy alums themselves, the women went to each other for comfort. They were all mothers, aunts, sisters—and they had sons, nephews, brothers who had just been fished from the grip of danger. They held vigil, keeping any mutinous grumbling against administration at a minimum, focusing their energies elsewhere.

A familiar woman in a silvery-gray suit emerged from her son's room, very pale and shaking slightly as she closed the door. Agatha Houston had seen quite a lot in her life, and she had already lost one son. The other was in such a condition that she needed to step out of the room for a moment, as though to try and compose herself.

Dwight hadn't stirred at all since the boys caught him.

As she sat down and tried to breathe, someone walked up to her and she raised her eyes to meet Carole Hudson-Hummel's gaze. Agatha felt a little startled. "Can I—Can I help you?"

"I'm—I'm Carole," she said, looking misty-eyed, hands clasped. "I'm Kurt's…Kurt's stepmom."

"Oh…"

They had seen each other briefly when the boys were rushed in. Both had heard the stories from the ones who were conscious. Each story seemed worse than the last, but they knew one important thing—through that madness, the boys had tried to protect each other desperately. And their sons fought hard.

"It's just that…what your son…tried to do for mine, I just…" Carole tried to say shakily but Agatha leaped to her feet and simply, without warning, hugged her tightly, crying her heart out. The two women held each other, Carole tearing up as she patted Agatha's back, the both of them a pair of mothers who loved their sons very dearly.

Mrs. Hughes, who was just returning from fetching a paltry dinner for her infuriated husband and four anxious daughters, seemed to be called to them like a moth to a flame, and from the hallway she hurried up to them. The two women, recognizing the same plight in her, immediately pulled her into their hug, sobbing wordlessly, but understanding exactly what the other needed.

But all of them looked up when there were stifled outcries from some people, immediately followed by a resounding slap, from down the hall where some of the fathers were standing.

A beautiful woman with blonde, highlighted hair stood there, face immaculately modeled in makeup and features sculpted by master surgeons, and her brown eyes were positively blazing. Carole took one look at the soap-worthy scene and realized that once again, that senator must have said the wrong thing again—she'd heard the fathers talking heatedly, and after Burt had talked to her, she knew that the man was trouble.

With her lip still trembling as though repressing wrath, the woman who'd just arrived immediately swept past a stunned-looking Senator Wright, whose cheek was scarlet with the blow, and immediately ran toward the one of the rooms while clutching a sequined purse.

"Mrs. Armstrong, wait!" exclaimed one of the on-call nurses, going after her.

"That's Ms. Larson to you—and I want to see my son! Where is he?" the woman shot back before she blew into one of the rooms.

A murmuring rose among the people who had seen this spectacle. Everyone hears about movie stars having a diva moment, and some people may even look forward to seeing one have it in front of them, but this one was different.

"My god, this place is a circus!" Bart Anderson—who had been summoned to the scene by his wife—grumbled, looking absolutely irritated, and some of the parents shot him dark looks.

Naturally, no one was unhappier than the senator, who stormed down the hall as if to go after her. "Wait—wait! Johnny, stop! What in the world did you say to that woman?" hissed Troy Mapleton as he stared at the stunned senator.

"Dad!" Drew stared at him, stunned at the familiarity of his tone.

"John—you were the one who snapped at her to wait and that tirade about how her son was practically responsible for this mess," Ford glowered in disapproval, but the senator cut him to the quick by nearly lunging at him. Colin jumped forward but John was already past listening.

"You think after all this, I'm going to let some damn woman—"

"Just—just _stop_!"

Everyone stopped and looked up. Michelle Wright was the one who had spoken. She was the one who had been sitting with the rest of the women, crying hard but as quietly as she could, all this time. And for the first time, she had spoken.

The Senator stared at her in surprise. Michelle blew her nose heavily into the tissues that Marlene Anderson had given her and now looked up at John Wright, her eyes bloodshot with crying.

She stood, looking distressed and furious. "Stop screaming about everything! You're angry—of course you're angry—you're always angry! But you listen to that nice man—" she pointed to Ford Houston, who looked startled, "—and stop screaming! People are really upset right now and—and—and what they need is quiet to think! I know I'm not as smart as everyone else but even I can't think right now—especially about everything that's happened to Logan!"

John stared at her in amazement as she walked up to him and jabbed at his chest with a scarlet-painted fingernail. "And you—I want you to think about all the times you pushed Logan away! The times that you couldn't stop and show this kind of concern over that boy when it counted! Now he's in this hospital, he nearly _died—_" she wrung her hands, shakily holding a very wet handkerchief and sobbed, "You—you just sit there and think! And I—I'm—I'm going to go see my baby and see if he's okay and—"

And she burst into a fresh wave of tears and simply bolted, pushing past Carole and Marlene, who also gave her husband a hard look and followed after Michelle.

At that moment, Finn ran out of Kurt's room, looking up and down the hall for Carole.

"Kurt's awake!" he gasped.

* * *

When the world began to clear, Kurt realized his hand was wet because his father had been crying into it in relief. "…dad…?" he asked hoarsely. He remembered hearing his father's voice right before he passed out. In that long, dark, dreamless stupor, he didn't dream at all. And so as he woke, his father was the first person he sought. "…dad?"

"Right here—I'm right here, Kurt, it's okay. You're gonna be okay."

As Kurt's hand closed over his father's stronger one, he was overcome with guilt. His father was still not well; his heart wasn't well. This must've taken a terrible toll on him that he didn't deserve. He opened his eyes, blinking and wincing a little to the light. Every part of his body was sore—and for a moment he was terrified that he was lying there unable to move. But the throbbing pain told him that he was only stiff, and he could feel his fingers moving.

When his vision cleared properly, he could feel his father embracing him carefully, and he could see Carole crying, wringing his hand. Wherever he was, it was packed. Finn's form towered over the rest of them, and he was smiling, completely relieved, as the rest of New Directions stood a distance from his parents, all looking absolutely relieved.

"What…where…?"

"Hospital," Carole managed to say, very carefully hugging him.

Kurt appreciated the hug, but grimaced a little. "…everything hurts…"

"Happens after a stunt like that, son," Burt shakily responded, managing a smile of obvious relief at his son, who was slowly getting his bearings back.

Kurt took a deep breath and felt clean air—not a trace of smoke—fill his lungs. He coughed for a few moments and smiled at his father, hugging him back. Tears stung his eyes as he held his father tight. He felt absolutely, truly safe in his father's protective grasp. "I love you, dad," he whispered.

"I love you too, Kurt…" Burt whispered, hugging him tightly, sniffling only slightly, patting his son's back. "I'm so glad you're alright."

Kurt just nodded, briefly pulling his hand back so he could wipe away a tear, and returned to hugging his father. "Um…dad?"

"Yeah?"

"…what's with all the balloons?"

Kurt realized that part of the reason his eyes were hurting was due to sensory overload: the room was crammed with people and what appeared to be a massive flock of balloons with smiley faces, filling the entire ceiling. In various colors, with curling string. New Directions seemed baffled, but kept their attention on him, even as they swatted away the crowding balloons.

"It was from those weird twins," Quinn rolled her eyes. "Or at least that's what we heard. They did it to everyone. That boyfriend of yours had his room raided like this too."

"I think they're just trying to cheer you up," Tina blinked.

"…they have really creepy smiles—like they're always watching," Brittany whispered to no one in particular.

_Well…_ Kurt exhaled, conceding to merely roll his eyes with some relief, …_at least I know that the Twins are okay enough to still be doing this kind of thing…_

Just how badly had things gone for everyone anyway…? "What happened?" he asked, looking at all the familiar faces surrounding him. As these people seemed to look at each other, as though also trying to figure out how to explain, Kurt realized something:

None of the faces before him were the same ones he'd seen not too long ago, amidst the backdrop of the fire. As this realization sunk in, he looked up at his father with wide eyes. "Dad…where's Blaine?"

Blaine had been the one holding him, Kurt remembered, after he landed on the mat and got out of the flames—right before he heard his father's voice. In this white light and comfort, Kurt had overlooked the other boys, a transgression considering when he had seen them all last.

"Where's Blaine?" Kurt choked, looking around.

"Well, he—" Carole looked at her husband, looking unsure.

There was a brief commotion outside Kurt's door as a group of people seemed to be arguing and struggling.

"Wait—wait—! No, don't go in there yet!"

"Please, I just want to see if he's okay—!"

"_You're_ not okay—!"

"Blaine, wait—!"

Kurt was already sitting up with Burt's help when Blaine came into the room—New Directions had moved aside and at this point the room had all it could hold—and made his way to Kurt. He was limping slightly and he was still heavily bandaged, his mother and brother hovering anxiously outside the door.

Blaine looked at Burt, with apologetic desperation in his eyes—to which Burt only nodded slightly, but did not leave his son's side—and then Blaine was hugging Kurt, who looked as though he would cry again, hugging Blaine as tightly as he could. When he breathed, it was as though he had held his breath all this time.

"After you fainted—" Blaine just managed to choke out starting to relax now, relieved to see that Kurt was all right after all; his hands flew up to cup Kurt's cheek as he stared at him, as though unable to see enough, "—the paramedics—and I thought that you—"

Kurt looked up at him in concern. "You were limping. And your shoulder! Are you—"

"I didn't feel anything when we were still in there but—but now it's either they gave me some pretty intense painkillers or it wasn't as bad as it seemed while everything was going nuts…"

"You were _stabbed_, Blaine."

"I remember that vividly, Kurt," his boyfriend responded, without changing expression. Blaine sighed, but he shook his head, touching his stabbed shoulder lightly. "But it'll get better…with time… How do you feel? How's your leg?"

"I feel sore everywhere but…but I think I'm…better than I had expected…" Kurt managed a smile at him, then looked up at his father again. Burt nodded and said, "Yeah, it's not as bad as we first thought, but you should take it easy for a while. I'm throwing out those weird sparkling shoes in your room that look like lobster claws."

"From my Lady Gaga outfit?" Kurt looked scandalized.

Blaine now looked toward Burt with an apologetic expression. "I'm sorry I just ran in here, sir… I…I just wanted to see if Kurt was all right. I'm…I'm sorry I wasn't able to put a stop to this."

"We're glad you're _both_ all right," Carole replied emphatically, putting a hand on Blaine's shoulder. "I was with your mother while you weren't up yet." She glanced back at Marlene, who was smiling a little bit, at the sight of her son. Blaine followed Carole's gaze and smiled faintly at his mother, a little abashed by his own impetuousness. He noticed that Shane was gone.

Blaine looked around the room and saw the balloons. "Hit you too, huh?"

"At least we know the twins are okay…"

"No, these were all sent in via courier. Mr. Brightman said that the Twins demanded for them, but they couldn't do it themselves. They're still recuperating—they haven't let go of each other."

"They are…? Where are…" Kurt's voice caught at that moment, and Blaine looked at him. "…what happened to the others?"

Blaine stared at him. For a moment, given what he knew, he wasn't sure what to say. He wasn't sure what _Kurt_ knew and remembered—he just remembered Kurt falling limp in his arms and then he had started to panic. Nothing would rouse him…

* * *

_Burt had run in after that moment, as the rest of the Dalton boys tried to bring their schoolmate to consciousness. The paramedics and firefighters had arrived—and they were already blasting the front of the building with water. When they realized that there were students who'd jumped from the other side, the paramedics ran to them._

_Burt had immediately taken his son to get him medical help, and for a moment, Blaine was disoriented—he had been through more than enough today to lose his head for that brief instant. He saw Burt carrying his son to the paramedics and Blaine had tried to follow them—he just wanted to make sure Kurt was all right—until he felt his mother grab him back. Marlene had come with the other parents, and when Blaine saw her, he finally gave in to the exhaustion and his knees gave out._

_As his mother held him, he felt as though he could see and remember everything in blinding clarity. There was Shane; Shane who was holding Reed in his arms and crying, leaning against Micah, whose clothes were singed and sporting some burns on his forearms. Reed was already unconscious then._

_The towering figure of Clark had come at Reed then, and as Clark picked up the shorter boy, Shane turned his attention to Micah, who didn't seem to be able to walk that well. Micah was pushing him away, as though telling him to go see to Reed, but Shane would not leave him._

_Blaine's eyes went to the Twins, who were being pulled away by their sister. They too struggled for a bit; they didn't want to go anywhere just yet, and it was evident from the way they tried to help the other students first. They were clearly in pain, same as everyone else who had been hauled out of that inferno, but Ethan and Evan first made sure Justin could stand (he could), made sure Charlie was conscious (he was), and made sure Dwight was breathing in spite of unconsciousness (he was, however weakly)._

_They looked around for Wes, who was already lying on the stretcher, an oxygen mask strapped to his face, with David following after him looking distraught —he looked up just as Wes' family ran to them. But before the Twins could get to Logan, Audrey and the emergency personnel won out and pulled the Twins away._

_Blaine had turned his still stinging eyes towards the direction the Twins were looking to—where they could see Logan. Blaine couldn't see through the crowd until a group of Hanovers moved and he saw Logan sitting on the grass, Julian still in his arms. Derek had put a hand to his shoulder and was shaking him, as though trying to rouse him._

_The paramedics were drawing Derek away, concerned by his bandage-wrapped head. Then the paramedics had taken Julian almost forcibly from Logan, and then the crowd blocked Blaine's sight again._

_And then, strangely, Blaine couldn't remember what happened next. He must have been taken to the hospital then, but he couldn't remember how._

_He only remembered seeing his mother at his side, saying his name, and by then he was lying on the hospital bed. He was in a daze when his mom left for a moment to talk to the doctor about him._

_Blaine had gotten up like someone who wasn't really awake. He pulled off his oxygen mask and felt the tight clench of the bandages around his body. He didn't have any intravenous lines on him yet, and so he had left the room by himself. He went looking for his brother and his friends, wondering where they were in the blinding white purity of the hospital halls, the whiteness burning into his tired eyes the way the fire did._

_It took him a while before he realized who was sitting on the floor, back to the white wall. It was his brother, knees pressed to his chest, and head buried in his arms, sobbing as though his heart would break._

"_Shane…?" Blaine blinked blearily._

"_Oh my god—!" Shane flew off the floor and almost tackled Blaine to the floor, holding him tight. For a moment, Blaine had been disoriented, but Shane's strength kept him upright. He carefully patted his brother's back._

"_I was—I thought you—" the words degenerated into a whining sob that Blaine had last heard when Shane had his worse days back in their old school, when he thought all hope was lost. "Don't do that to me again, ever!" the younger Anderson almost screamed. "Do you have any idea how scared I was? It was bad enough that Reed and Micah were—and then you—just when we'd gotten everyone back—!"_

"_Shh…" Blaine smiled faintly, still a little shaky. "Relax."_

"_I can't…" Shane hiccupped pitifully. He released Blaine and wiped his eyes with grubby palms. "Sorry, I—I'm going to get myself all together soon, I just—oh god, I was so scared—Are you okay now?" His eyes were still wet._

"_I…" Blaine wondered if he was all right. He felt a little numbed. He wondered if it were painkillers. He looked at Shane for a moment, his little brother who just looked younger than ever right now. For some reason, Blaine remembered the times when they were little, when Shane would have nightmares and he'd sob and creep into Blaine's bed to cry. He knew everything that scared his brother, but this had to have been, by far, the scariest of it all. Because he would've been alone if things had gone terribly wrong._

"…_Micah? And Reed?" Blaine murmured, having remembered Shane with them._

_But the younger boy only shook his head. He seemed to gesture weakly down the hall, where presumably, Micah and Reed were. Shane looked about as lost as Blaine felt._

"_I don't—I don't even know where they are right now, I didn't know who to go to first, so I just stayed here until I was sure you were okay first…" Shane choked, hands shaking uncontrollably, "…was this how he felt…? When it had been me, was this how he felt…? It's horrible…" He raised his eyes to Blaine. "Was this how _**you**_ felt?"_

_Quietly, Blaine had nodded and he rested a hand on his brother's shoulder. Shane put his hand over Blaine's and shook his head. "Nevermind me. I'm—I'm just freaking out. You—are you sure you should be walking around? Come on, let's get you back to your bed—"_

_Blaine had simply ignored him as he walked a few steps down the hall. He looked around the people. "…where's mom…?"_

"_She went to go see the doctor about your X-rays."_

"…_where's Kurt?"_

_Shane had blinked, looking confused. "I—I don't know. I'm not sure. But I think I saw Mr. Hummel go through a door at that direct—Blaine!"_

_Blaine fled down the hall, ignoring the stab of pain in his leg. He had to find Kurt._

* * *

"Blaine?" Kurt's voice pulled him from his thoughts. Kurt's perfect usually perfect forehead was creased with worry, and marred with some scratches. "Blaine, are you all right?"

"Yeah, I was just…" Blaine shook his head and managed to smile faintly at him. "I was just thinking of the others…"

"What happened to them?" Kurt stared.

"Well…after you passed out they—they were taken away too and…I haven't really heard anything yet. I…I went to you the moment I got up." He looked up into Kurt's eyes—those beautiful eyes that he, for many horrendous moments, thought he would never see again. Shakily, he held Kurt's face in his hands again as though trying to believe that he was holding him still. "…I had to see you…I had to."

Kurt managed to smile at him now and pulled him close again. "I'm glad you're okay."

Blaine held him tighter in response, looking wracked in guilt. He closed his eyes tight "…I'm so sorry…I'm sorry…"

"For what…?" came Kurt's confused tone.

"…for not knowing sooner… When you started acting strange trying to figure all this out I—I didn't even realize that you were doing everything you could to help…" Blaine clutched tighter—it would've been painful for the both of them if they held tighter. "I'm so sorry, Kurt, I should've done something…anything…I could've kept you from being in that situation…"

"You did do something…" Kurt looked at him now, touching the injured shoulder on Blaine very carefully. "You did. You…you ran in. You knew there was a madman up there, there was fire everywhere, but you ran in. In that big scuffle upstairs, you helped save us. Save _me_."

Blaine wasn't letting it go. "You were up there so long…on your own, Kurt. I should've—God, I don't even know anymore, I feel like such an idiot for letting this happen to you— If I'd just—" He took a shivering breath and held Kurt's shoulders. "I love you. You're…you're the most important thing in my world right now and I should've at least noticed when you started acting strange—"

"Blaine." Kurt cut in manner-of-factly, refusing to hear any blaming about this entire mess. Only one person was responsible for this whole fiasco, and wherever he was, Kurt hoped he was in restraints—and also kept away from every able-bodied Dalton boy who probably wished to do him harm. "Blaine, I love you. And there is no reason for you to think like this. What you did, it counts. You didn't ask for this. No one did. And no one could've asked you to do more than what you did up there." Kurt felt him exhale against him and he held him for a few moments longer before releasing him.

Burt nodded to Blaine a little, and carefully put a hand onto the uninjured shoulder. Burt glanced at the injury on his son's boyfriend and looked very displeased at the fact that any of these boys had to be hurt like this. "Kurt will be okay, Blaine. You should look after yourself too, can't be just running around. You should go back to your mom. She looks real worried." He nodded to Marlene, who was at the doorway, watching her son and smiling a little at the sight of him and Kurt.

Blaine looked at his mother, saw the strain in her smile, the worry in her eyes, and nodded. "Yeah," he said. "I…I should." He glanced back to Burt a moment and headed for his mother, who walked in a little to receive him.

"Blaine?" Kurt said suddenly, making his boyfriend glance back a moment just as he reached his mother. Kurt looked at him and gave him a shaky smile. "…thank you. For…for saving us. You and Logan…you…if you hadn't come when you did—and when you jumped at Adam—" He broke off there and just kept smiling. His father's hand closed over his, and he glanced at him.

Burt looked intently at his son. "Adam? Adam was the student who did all this?"

"Burt…I think we should wait until the police are ready to take Kurt's statement," Carole said in a placating tone, recognizing the telltale signs of her husband getting worked up.

"Carole, I'm fine, I just want to know—" and he looked from her and to Kurt, his eyes now looking concerned. "I just…I want to know what had happened. Can you—now, I'm not _forcing_ you to tell me if it's too hard right now but—can you…do you think you can tell us some of what happened…?"

Kurt stared at his father, and then his eyes turned back to Blaine, who was also gazing at him as though waiting. New Directions, hovering by the door from where they had retreated, looked anxious, also waiting for the answer.

And Kurt realized that, for what must have been the past few hours, this was what everyone was waiting for. Everyone wanted to know what happened. Sure, some of the boys were conscious, but the whole story, from top to bottom, had to come from the boys who had been in the top floor of the Art Hall. Only they knew everything.

Everyone wanted to know what set the building on fire, _why_ there was even a fire, why Kurt, Blaine, Logan, Reed, and Julian were in that fire, why Dwight had tried to save them, why the Twins ran inside, why Charlie, Justin, Wes, and Micah followed…

He had no idea what happened to the others after he lost consciousness…but only they could answer why this even happened. They were looking for a reason, for a suspect, _something_…

Kurt closed his eyes for a moment and tried to remember everything as best as he could. When he closed his eyes, he saw a glow of orange, the faintest echo of crackling wood. It was as though the air began to thicken almost immediately. It was frightening how quickly it came to him. He could hear the muffled tones of his friends—calling over the din—until—

"Kurt?"

He opened his eyes when he felt his father's hand on his. He stared at his father's worried face and remembered where he really was. He saw family, friends, and the concern in their eyes. He was here. He was safe. There was no fire here. Everything was cold and sterile. Fresh. Time to start again. If he went back and told them what happened, maybe they can fill in for him what happened after.

He took a deep breath as he began telling them—the story that he and the boys would be repeating for the next several days as friends, family, police officers, investigators, and press would be asking. It was the story told over the days as slowly, but surely, the boys who told it began to recuperate.

* * *

"At first, I really didn't know anything. I was just at school and everything was okay. It was after Valentines' Day, and we were getting ready for Parents' Night. That was when I really began talking to Julian Larson. We had…talked a few times before but we weren't….we may not have really been friends, exactly, but…I guess we just started to talk more… then he started to tell me that he had this problem. Julian had been having problems with a very very persistent fan that had been trying to pressure him against taking this role…"

* * *

"…so as…as it turned out…his stalker was serious about those threats," Derek said hoarsely to the police from where he was sitting with his mother and father. Ernest was staring intently at his son, listening. Derek seemed to press a hand to his forehead for a moment before adding, "…I was helping him, but he didn't want it to be broadcast out. He worried everything would escalate more if people made a big fuss and…and…he just didn't want to involve anyone. I wanted to tell someone, but—"

* * *

"—but I don't think anyone really had the, um…chance to do anything," Justin coughed, but looking remarkably composed for someone who had just been in a fire. "I was approached by Kurt about it, because he said he suspected someone who was already in the school of someone doing it." His sister, Laura, kept hold on his hand. Next to him, his mother Lindsay looked from her son to his husband. Both father and mother had arrived not long ago.

Richard Bancroft stood by the door, staring intently at his son, who added in a bitter tone, "…I didn't take action soon enough, even though Kurt tried to warn me…he said that even Dwight…Dwight tried to get to the bottom of the mess…"

* * *

"…But we didn't…pay attention," Charlie sighed from where he was with his family. Charlie's arms were bandaged. It was the second time in a year that he found himself bandaged up in this hospital but he would've taken the first time over this. "…I guess I didn't. But everyone had been talking about it, about how Kurt and Dwight were going crazy—"

* * *

"—trying to figure out who was doing it, and maybe they already knew, they were just trying to confirm it," Wes murmured, looking around at his father, his mother, his sisters—and the plethora of well-dressed but apparently very armed men who were, for lack of a better term, his father's lackeys, all of whom were crowding his room. The protective circle they made was smothering, but he didn't want to have to look at the police officers. "They were focused on this one guy—from Hanover, his name was—"

* * *

"—Adam Clavell," Danny nodded to the police officers, and Spencer and Merril who were in his room with him, other Hanovers crowding the space. He still clutched onto the cut at his collar, now covered in reddening gauze. He was still looking pale, and he had been given morphine for his injuries. "He was supposed to be my roommate. I was told to keep an eye on him to see if he really was the one responsible for all this but…"

* * *

"…but they needed proof," Han continued from where he sat. His mother and father sat on either side of him, looking anxious, his little sister Lucy had even come from Dobry Hall to be with him. His hands were still shaking. "I think that's why Dwight came to me. Looking for any footage and things. I put bugs around the school, not ashamed to say it—and it paid off. There was something there. I gave it to Dwight—"

* * *

"—and he'd really been trying to fix it all," Evan whispered. Colin sat next to his son and put and arm around him. The twin didn't look up; he rubbed his eyes a moment and Ethan took up the thread. "We don't even know why we didn't believe him at first—we should've listened to him and Kurt. We should've known something was wrong by the way they were both acting."

Ethan stopped and looked at his brother again, who added, "Something had definitely been wrong. We should've acted but then Parents' Night finally happened…"

* * *

"…then it all just happened so fast…" Reed whispered, sitting up and looking flustered. His head was wrapped in bandages and he looked as though he were still in some pain. Hilde van Kamp was at one corner of the room, away from the police, silently frothing in rage that this had happened to her precious son. Clark Sawyer glanced at her only slightly before turning his full attention to his stepbrother. "I just remember—I just remember trying to set up for the exhibit…and then the lights went out and…and he was suddenly there and—I tried to run but he knocked me out…"

* * *

"…and then he went after us," Laura Bancroft said matter-of-factly. Rick stared at his daughter, who added, "He knew we were trying to prove it was him. Dwight and I, we broke into his room. All the proof you need is right there, really. All the photos, the flowers, the hit list—it's all there. He was going to come up and find us—but Dwight told me to hide. I don't know what happened to Dwight then but he was gone when I tried to leave, and Adam was still there. He locked me up and then he left to go after the rest of the people…"

* * *

"…I had gone to look for Reed," Kurt continued, staring at the police officers now taking his statement, "and Blaine, because we really needed them for the performance. I went to the Art Hall because I figured Reed was there and he was—but Adam was there too. I—I tried to get away from him to warn someone but it was no use. He took me upstairs too and—"

* * *

"And then…and then he went after Julian, I guess…" Bailey said, looking up at the police officer taking his statement. The family lawyer stood over him, protective, and nodded for Bailey to continue what he was saying. "All we know is that we found his two best friends—Logan and Derek—incapacitated. Logan was a bit drugged up, and Derek was badly concussed. Julian was gone but we didn't know he was taken to the Art Hall…"

* * *

"—Danny came running to us…" Blaine finally looked up, running a hand over his face and looking tired and withdrawn. His mother slipped an arm around his shoulders and held tight, as though comforting him, but Blaine did not smile. His father stood in dark displeasure over at the corner, which Shane fervently avoided as he kept close to Blaine, listening. "Logan and I, we were…we were really distraught by what Danny was just saying. When I heard that Adam had Kurt involved, I'd just run off—I had to go save him. There just wasn't any time to lose. I ran to the Art Hall—"

* * *

"—and we really tried to escape," Kurt whispered later on as he looked at the other Windsors who weren't involved in the accident were staring at him, having come in to see if he was all right. "From upstairs, while Adam wasn't around, we tried to get away with Julian's help, but he threatened us—"

* * *

"—and things were already catching fire," Logan Wright said, sitting up on his own hospital bed, voice still raspy. Michelle hovered protectively next to him, disliking the fact that John wanted to hear Logan detail all of this right now when he clearly hadn't recovered completely yet. "Things were blowing up left and right…all the supply rooms went off…"

* * *

"…that's when we saw the fire…" Ethan muttered, holding onto his twin's hand—they had not released each other for hours; they even sat together on the edge of a hospital bed. "When we realized that our friends were in there…there was just no other option for us. We were the best people to get in and out—or so we thought—and we went in—"

* * *

"—and I followed the Twins because one of my two best friends is in there along with my other friends…" Wes exhaled and did not flinch when his mother held him. He glanced to his father, who looked terribly displeased. "I know—it was stupid, and it was a bad idea but…" he glanced to David, who was at the door with Katherine, staring at him as well. He looked back to his father, "But I wouldn't have forgiven myself if something happened and I wasn't there to at least help—!"

* * *

"But why did _you_ go in there?" Erin demanded at Micah, who was also sitting up on his bed. She had waited until Shane had left before exploding on Micah. "You could've been killed, you could've died!"

Micah just shook his head as the nurses tried to dress his burns. "I had to. I just had to. Blaine was in there, Kurt was in there…and Reed was in there and if you heard Shane scream the way I heard…" He leaned back, closing his eyes. "You should've seen all those boys in there, Erin—you could see they were all scared but they were there to do something _worth_ doing it for—"

* * *

"—and Blaine and I ran upstairs and we found that—that _lunatic_ holding Julian to the wall with that knife and Kurt and Reed were in one side looking as though they'd been beaten badly—" Logan said to the police officer now taking his statement under the watchful eye of his still incredibly infuriated father. "He just kept screaming at us—and he made Julian…he made Julian…say things…" Logan paused for a long moment. He stared at his hands. Michelle looked up when her stepson stopped talking.

The police officers stared expectantly, at the tall blond boy who seemed to have completely derailed his thought train and was on some other plane now.

Finally, Logan looked up when he felt his father's hand on his shoulder for a moment. John looked down at him with an intent gaze. "…do you want to stop?"

"No," Logan replied, looking away from him, and very slightly drawing his shoulder away from his father's touch. He continued, shaking a little, "Blaine managed to tackle Adam and—and then he just…started hacking at us with the knife… I kicked it away, and there was this…big scuffle…then I brought the axe around and I—"

* * *

"—then we knew we just…we had to go," Kurt said, regaining his composure a little more as he exhaled. He was dressed in his own clothes now, and Burt was holding a crutch for him. He shook his head and his eyes wandered off to the flowers by his bed, mercifully devoid of roses. "…when we ran out, the…the whole place started exploding, falling apart…"

* * *

"—when we ran out—I, I remember the supply room exploding," Reed shook his head. He seemed to do a double take when he caught sight of Shane outside his door. His mother looked to where he was looking, gave Shane another glower—the first one had prevented Shane from entering the room before—but the younger boy held his ground this time, jaw set and standing stubbornly at the door.

Reed smiled at him, looking relieved. Hilde moved to close the door, and she felt a tug at her arm—Reed was holding her back with a strong grip. Her eyes met her son's, and Reed stared intently at her. For a moment, Hilde was confused, and she stopped.

Reed steadied himself, looking back to the officer. "And then I don't remember much…I remember Kurt and Julian waking me…"

* * *

"—and we were opening the door—but the ceiling was caving in on them," Charlie shook his head, clasping his hands together, leaning over his knees.

* * *

"—and then Julian—" Kurt's breath caught.

Blaine's eyes flew to him. They were standing in Blaine's hospital room, on their last day of stay in the hospital, and it was time to go. Boys less injured than them had already been discharged just yesterday. After a battery of exams to make sure that they didn't suffer serious internal damage, their burns had been treated, their injuries sewn and bandaged, and they had been set to heal. Kurt was leaning on a crutch. Blaine's arm was in a sling, and Shane had been helping him stand. Everyone in the room looked up when Kurt had stopped his story.

For a moment, the "Alice" looked a little disoriented. He wasn't sure if he should continue talking. He glanced at Blaine, who was now making his way towards him with a strange expression on his face, as though trying to see if he was all right.

"He pushed Kurt forward before beams fell. He got trapped."

The two of them looked up. Logan was standing at the doorway. He hadn't been looking at them, but he lifted his gaze to them only when he resumed speaking. "And…we couldn't really help him. …no matter how much we wanted to."

Kurt bestowed Logan with a long look for a moment, and he wondered what was going through the tall boy's mind at this moment. Logan had gone ballistic at that moment, and Kurt did not forget what he saw after Julian had landed onto the mat. He couldn't forget. He felt the push when he was given a way out, he saw him fall and he had been with Logan when they tried to revive the actor.

Logan looked up to Kurt now. It had been many days since, and it was the first time they would have seen each other since the fire.

"I'm glad you're all right," Logan murmured as Michelle put a hand to his shoulder. Logan still looked like a mess, and Kurt knew at a glance that the jagged cut to his hair was the result of the tips being singed by the flames.

"I'm glad you're okay too," Kurt responded.

Logan looked at Blaine now, seeing the sling around his arm and remembering the stab wound there. "Blaine," he nodded, acknowledging the sacrifice and thanking him for it.

"Logan," Blaine nodded back in return, smiling slightly, acknowledging Logan for his own efforts—for what they all had to go through now. "We're glad you're all right."

It wasn't until John and Michelle Wright moved down the hall with their son when Kurt murmured to Blaine, "Do you think Julian ever understood it?"

"Understood what?"

"How much he meant to Logan too."

Blaine gave Kurt a strange look of confusion. "What do you mean?"

Kurt blinked back at him in surprise, looking back to where Logan had vanished and then back again. "Oh…oh, I thought—"

"Julian's always been one of the most important people to Logan," Blaine murmured. "Even I knew that, way back when we were together. Anything Derek or Julian had to say always had weight in Logan's mind. Julian mattered to him, he always had. Same way he seems to still take in things that I say. I feel that way too, sometimes, about him. I don't think he and I ever got over what happened to us…but he did look after me too, a little… I think it's kind of why I knew he'd fight so hard for you too… Because if Logan finds you important…he really won't let go."

Kurt considered that for a moment before looking at Blaine with a small smile. "You're the same way, you know."

"Huh?"

"You and Logan don't see eye-to-eye on a lot of things, but you took the time to defend him too. And you really don't know when to quit, really…" Kurt managed a small laugh as he leaned properly onto his crutch. "Someone who did something very reckless told me that not a lot of people would take a bullet for someone else. You did that for me when you went running into the building without a second thought, even though you knew it was burning, that there was a maniac in there… You went in because you knew I was there. You jumped at Adam when he had us and you knew you could've been killed."

Blaine stared at him for a long moment and his expression softened. He smiled and shook his head a little. "…I'm not good with losing people that matter to me. And you… I don't think I could've lived with myself if you had…well…you know." He managed a small smile.

"So I noticed."

Someone else passed at the door, and nodded to them. Kurt looked up and smiled at the sight of Reed, who was sitting on a wheelchair and head wrapped in bandages still.

"Hello, Reed," Burt said, smiling at the curly-top in the chair, who smiled back, looking better than he had in days. He knew from Kurt that the smaller boy wouldn't be leaving his chair yet, but he was doing better.

"Hello, Mr. Hummel." Reed smiled in return and looked at Kurt now. "Sure you don't want one?" he asked, looking somehow less fragile even while wearing a thick headband of gauze. Shane was the one pushing the wheelchair.

"Blaine and I have to return to our best condition as soon as possible, we're leads," Kurt replied coolly, with a small smirk and a ghost of that diva air that was so genuinely his. "Seriously, this is nothing compared to what Vocal Adrenaline apparently does to those who fall behind. You, on the other hand, better stay in that chair."

"Honestly, Kurt. I can walk. Mom just wanted me in the chair until we got to the car. And so did Shane. But I don't intend on sitting around for where we're going." Reed smiled faintly at his friend before he looked at Shane, who smiled back down at him and gave him a small nudge, "Come on. We all better get going."

"Yeah…" Kurt nodded and rested his arm against Blaine, who kept close, holding him securely. "I don't think fashionably late applies here."

And so they all left.

* * *

"Yeah…" Kurt nodded and rested his arm against Blaine, who kept close, holding him securely. "I don't think fashionably late applies here."

And so they all left.

And it wasn't until a while later when, in the hushed assembly within the church that comprised of family, friends, colleagues, and students—a sea of dark clothing and glazed eyes who kept their eyes on the coffin—that Dwight Houston, still rather heavily bandaged but his burns healing, went up to the pulpit.

All eyes were immediately on him. As the Windsor boys looked up to his lanky form, they saw that he looked a little lost. More than one boy wanted to go up with him to help him walk up to it, but Dwight brushed them quietly away, preferring to limp slightly on his own. He stood at the pulpit to speak.

Dwight looked at the sea of black, and closed his eyes for a moment. He didn't enjoy funerals in general. He hated funerals because it means someone had gone. He had lost many things, and he'd decided to dedicate his life against people losing other people. The last time he had been to a funeral, the coffin had been small and everyone looked at him as though they expected him to cry. There was always some kind of expectation in funerals, when it comes to the bereaved. And he didn't enjoy funerals like this one, where everyone knew you were important and they expected you to say _something_.

Even if he _was_ the one who had asked to speak today.

With the pause almost getting to "uncomfortable", he opened his eyes, and saw the Windsors in the pews near the front, most of whom were still bandaged. They looked at him quietly, encouraging him on with their eyes. Dwight's gaze fell to Kurt and Blaine, who sat at the front of the Windsors, right next to Charlie, who led the group.

Kurt looked at Dwight intently, passing him strength, and made a small swirling gesture with his hands. His lips moved slightly, and clearly, in perfect silence: _take a deep breath._

Dwight, watching him, took in a deep breath without meaning to. And Blaine nodded, smiling, gesturing for him: _and then let it out._

Dwight exhaled. And he spoke.

"Mr. Harvey showed up over me, when I was lying there after everyone had gotten out… I really didn't think he was real. I didn't think anybody else wanted to be in that place…. The last person I thought would've…gone in there was a teacher. Because teachers are smart, unlike us, who just ran in there without a thought. The rational thing to do was to wait for firefighters."

It wasn't dark or raining—it hadn't been anything. The weather was clear, the air was crisp and free of smoke. Kurt had looked to the windows and marveled at the fact that the world continued to turn. He felt Blaine's hand over his, and he looked at him to see Blaine getting ready to stand.

_Let me help you up,_ his gaze seemed to say, nodding towards the crutch. Kurt nodded slightly and let Blaine take some of his weight as he slowly got up. Then the two of them nodded slightly to Charlie, who nodded back. And the Kurt looked to see the other Warblers getting up.

"I wasn't—I'm not really the best person to talk about Mr. Harvey, I think. Because I…I guess I didn't know him as well as other people. All the best people to speak about him will be doing something better than just talk today…they're meant to sing to him the way that he was always so proud of them for doing. But…from what they've told me…I feel as though I really should talk. Because…you should know what Mr. Harvey was like to them. To us."

Kurt smiled faintly as he moved to the side aisle with Blaine, listening to Dwight speak. Dwight had come to him in the hospital, asking him how he was doing, and if he was getting well. Dwight apologized for not being careful enough, and Kurt had to tell him the same things he told Blaine—that no one expected or wanted this to happen, and that Dwight wasn't responsible.

"You see…even though a lot of the times, we like to think of ourselves as…able to do anything, because we were so privileged in this school…we lose track of reality. That…that we're not perfect… that we're not invincible. And so when we lose our way a little…we lose our heads. We think what we're doing is right. Even though the truth is…we needed to be pulled out of our own messes…"

The eulogy Dwight was saying now was something the two of them worked on together. And as they wrote it—well, Kurt wrote most of it, Dwight softly added input now and again, and Kurt didn't press him for what happened after they thought Dwight had been left behind—for a moment, he marveled at how he had grown to like the little hunter who had tried so hard. And he marveled at how glad he was that he was okay. He knew what it was like to try and try so hard and feel that the world was against you. Sure, their situations were a lot different, but Kurt felt that strange as Dwight was…if he had been at McKinley, the glee club might have adopted him for strangeness and strength of spirit alone.

Because the strange ones had the most to fight through. They had the most to live for. The ones who had the biggest, most unlikely dreams—Kurt wanted to be a star, and being a gay boy in Lima, in a high school like McKinley, was difficult even without that aspiration—were the ones who had to be the strongest.

"We didn't like being told what to do…what we can and can't do… but when we find ourselves in a pinch…we have to admit that we need help. That we couldn't do it alone. One of us was new here, when he came to Dalton. And he was surprised by how the teachers genuinely seemed to care, in spite of the fact that we fought them at every turn. …Mr. Harvey was like that. He was…well he was the kind of teacher that just let everyone in without minding what they were like on first impression."

Kurt smiled when he remembered first singing Don't Cry for Me Argentina. When he had looked up, he was surprised to see Mr. Harvey there with a kind smile. He wasn't expecting worlds from this Academy's choir—yes, he was a brilliant performer, but even he knew that his style was not their usual fare; he had decided to overcome that by magnitude of talent. He was willing to fight and fight hard, because he expected large obstacles, which were always in the way as he aspired for what seemed to be the impossible.

Harvey had smiled and not only encouraged his singing, but let him sing to his old glee club without questions. Kurt was welcomed into a group of people with great ease for the first time.

Kurt lowered his eyes for a moment and stood in front of the Warblers assembled on the choir's dais. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes as though he didn't want to see that the one who they usually sang to was now lying silent amidst the blooms before the altar.

He felt Blaine squeeze his hand. Kurt looked up, blinking away the mists in his eyes.

A_ man is placed upon the steps, a baby cries,_

_And high above the church bells start to ring…_

_And as the heaviness the body—oh the heaviness—settles in…_

_Somewhere you can hear a mother sing…_

"…the thing with Mr. Harvey, see…is that he really didn't see us with any kind of distinctions. Windsor, Stuart, Hanover, day student… Even those who don't really take his classes. All of us were kind of his kids. But I think…I think the Warblers knew this better than anyone else. That's why he…he didn't want to lose a single one permanently. Even when…even when it seemed as though they were more trouble than they were worth. He stood up for them…and protected them when he could."

Kurt glanced to Logan, whose eyes looked glazed, and it was not for the usual reasons. This was the first time in the past several days that any of them had seen Logan. Even when they were telling the events to the police, all Kurt had heard of him was that after he said his side of it, he was recovering well.

Logan was one of the Warblers that, in spite of his own misgivings, Harvey looked after. That time during Winter Fest would not go forgotten among the boys, when Harvey stood up to the Senator and asked him to let Logan stay, and grow a little more with the other boys.

Kurt remembered that, even after the huge fight during Valentine's Day – a replay of what nearly_did _cause Logan to be totally expelled last year – Harvey didn't believe anyone should be kicked out of the school. It as though he was confident that if they were allowed to finish what they began, things would turn out all right.

_Then it's one foot then the other as you step out onto the road,_

_How much weight? How much weight?_

_Then it's how long, and how far, and how many times…_

_Oh before it's too late?_

"Mr. Harvey always wanted them to know that…that only when they stand together can they really make the music they were so famous for. All of the Warblers are pretty attached to music… My dorm is full of them, and they break out into song now and again. I think it helps them get through the days. And I think Mr. Harvey knew that too. That if they just keep making their music, if they stayed together and believed they could, they could keep going."

The pallbearers were all Dalton boys. They all had wanted to do it, they insisted, and even Mrs. Harvey couldn't say no when she saw the expressions on their faces when they begged. This went even for those boys who were injured in the fire and were still recovering. If anything, they were the ones who insisted the most.

The parents had to intervene, and no matter how much Blaine wanted to be a pallbearer, his shoulder injury would prevent it. Kurt was out of the question as well, because of his leg. Reed certainly couldn't do it; he was still supposed to be mostly sitting down.

In the end, the prefects became pallbearers, along with the Windsor Warblers who could. Because Mr. Harvey had been a Windsor, a house banner was laid, along with the school insignia.

A soft rain had fallen earlier, making everything strangely fresh, and as they all reached out to pick up the casket—jet black, shining, covered in white lilies that lent a fragrance into the air with the baby's breath—Kurt saw the tears spring to their eyes, that the boys valiantly refused to let fall.

_Calling all angels…_

_Calling all angels…_

_Walk me through this one…_

_Don't leave me alone…_

_Calling all angels…_

_Calling all angels…_

_We're crying and we're hurting…_

_And we're not sure why…_

"We undervalue our teachers, I think. It takes a different kind of person to want to go up against all our headstrong will and try to impose some lessons which, beyond our expectations, would give us a reason to keep going. They believe we can even though we think we can't. They were students once, they should know how it's like…it's like the world will end when you hit a snag… when the truth is that there are worse things that we have yet to face, and that with every stumble, we have to pick ourselves up and believe we can beat this. They impart their knowledge onto us in the hope that it takes root. Mr. Harvey taught us about music, about how important it was to help one another, and how to not give up."

As the pallbearers walked down the steps, down the path, Kurt smiled sadly as he recalled that conversation he had with Mr. Harvey during the days to the Parents' Night. Harvey had told him that he had done so much more than he imagined he was doing when he came to Dalton. Harvey had stressed how much Kurt had helped people by coming.

It was odd, Kurt decided with the smallest fraction of a smile, as he followed the pallbearers to the cemetery grounds, that when he came to Dalton, he felt that he was the one meant to be helped. Protected from the danger he had moved away from, free to continue reaching for his dream with people who will not judge him.

It happened, all right, but he didn't know that he would come to have such an effect on the boys he met here. How he managed to be with them and somehow have an effect.

_And every day you gaze upon the sunset,_

_With such love and intensity…_

_It's almost…it's almost as if…_

_If you could only crack the code,_

_Then you'd finally understand what this all means…_

"How should we remember him? When you look back to this time—when you think about him, what will you remember? I know what I'll remember. Even if I tried to forget, I'd never be able to do it… I think what all of us will remember is what he tried to teach us. That…that even when all hope seems lost, there is still a way if you choose to find it. He could have waited outside, because it looked lost…but if he had done that…I would not be standing here."

_But if you could…do you think you would_

_Trade in all the pain and suffering?_

_Ah, but then you'd miss…_

_The beauty of the light upon this earth…_

_And the sweetness of the leaving…_

As the parents of Dalton Academy's security personnel kept the small smattering of photographers at bay at the rail fences of the grounds, preventing them from intruding too far into the funeral, Kurt turned away from the cameras and held Blaine's hand.

It didn't seem real right now that the papers were freaking out about the incident, that the school building had burned while students were in it, that the discovery that there had been a disturbed student who had done all this. That the parents were openly furious that there had been such an oversight on the architecture of the building, and that half the entertainment papers were screaming that a famous actor had been killed, making the hysteria bigger than it might have been. Passed from mouth to mouth, no one really knew.

It was almost upsetting how they didn't focus as much on the teacher. He was the only one who had passed away, leaving behind an entire school of boys who looked up to him as teacher, mentor, father, role model.

Blaine's hand tightened on Kurt's again and he looked up to see him closing his eyes against the tears that fell. Kurt squeezed his hand as he closed his own eyes against the flood, remembering Sectionals, when, with their teacher's prodding, the divided Warblers lifted their voices simultaneously, seamless, and created music.

"We can't forget the teacher. We can't forget what he did. No one will forget. What he did for all of us was something all teachers do—seemingly behind the scenes, but worth so much more than everyone can know. As his students…we all know that the best. That Mr. Gregory Harvey did things for us that are well within the realms of real heroism, and he did it every day. We won't forget that he gave us music. We won't forget that he helped save us."

_Calling' all angels…_

_Calling' all angels…_

_We're trying,_

_We're hoping,_

_We're hurting,_

_We're loving,_

_We're crying,_

_We're calling,_

'_Cause we're not sure how this goes…_

* * *

The pallbearers laid the coffin very carefully upon the casket cart placed next to an open grave of fresh earth. Kurt could smell the newly-turned earth and the blackness past it made him turn away. The casket would stay upon the cart for a moment as the priest would say the final rites, and everyone would look upon their teacher for one last time.

"I talked to Mr. Harvey a lot when Logan and I started having problems," Blaine whispered to Kurt as everyone began to gather. Some of the boys trailed behind with their parents, seemingly still talking to them as everyone gathered around the area set for mourners at the gravesite. Blaine glanced at the other boys before looking back at Kurt with a sad smile. "When Logan started to…snap at me, I asked Mr. Harvey if he knew what I ought to do, because he knew Logan longer. If he was having some problem at school or at home…"

"And then the whole story spilled out…?" Kurt whispered in reply, blinking at him. "That's how you found out that Logan had a temper problem."

"Well…sort of." Blaine sighed and shook his head. "He told me that Logan…did have the tendency to lash out. And that it was something he was seeing a counselor for. But Harvey never made it sound as though I should stay away from him. On the contrary, he…he thought I was good for Logan."

"I'm sure you were…" Kurt smiled. Blaine just shook his head.

"I guess maybe Mr. Harvey was…more tolerant than I was. I mean…I just came from my old school and I spent every day living in fear back then. I loved Logan like crazy but when he began to worsen, I… I started getting scared. I started getting scared about things that I said or did around him. I didn't want him to hurt me or be angry. When I said the wrong things, he started to push me back, and he would lunge at me. I thought, if he threw his friends into bookshelves, then what could he do to me? He tried to help himself sometimes but…" Blaine shook his head and touched his bandage as though remembering the wound just at that moment. "I think he noticed that, because it was like he kept trying to get something out of me that I…that I couldn't understand. I guess maybe I found out too late that what he wanted was for me to not be scared."

"He was hurting you, Blaine, you and the boys told me that," Kurt said quietly. "It's not a crime to edge away from a relationship where one of you got battered and bruised and the other just got angry a lot." Kurt glanced up at where the blond prefect stood, looking at the casket somewhat distractedly, as Michelle Wright tried to pull him gently away. "…you did help him. You loved him, didn't you? In the end, you did stand up to him, right? To tell him that there was something wrong. If you hadn't done what you did—that big fight in Warblers' Hall… Logan wouldn't be put onto actual treatment to help him. For what it's worth, it was a step in the right direction…because it looks like his dad sent him here just to keep him away."

Blaine smiled faintly. "Harvey was the one who figured it out first, and he was the one who pulled Logan into the Warblers when he saw that Logan seemed to particularly like music class. And then he started looking after him." Briefly, Blaine glanced to where Michelle and John Wright, Jr. stood, Logan standing a little way off and still looking lost in thought. "That's also why I made such an easy transition into the Warblers. He saw that I really liked music so… He was really glad that music helped us get back on track. He encouraged it. Which is why we could sing whatever we wanted at the duels."

"I had wondered about that…" Kurt smiled. "He was the one who made that concession."

"He did. He said that…in music, we could take out everything we felt. Ms. Medel agreed."

At the name, Kurt lifted his eyes to his remaining music teacher, who had been silent throughout the entire ceremony. She had arrived looking tall, beautiful and composed as she always did, her blonde hair shining in the sun and her clothing in deep black. Kurt had swallowed when he sensed that the black served a double purpose—to mourn, and to mask her steadily growing womb for the time being.

And though a beautiful black veil was cast down on her face by her hat…Kurt knew the red-rimmed eyes and heavy lids of someone who had cried the whole night without sleep. She remained with her colleagues. She made no move to approach the casket, nor did she make any move to come near Mrs. Harvey, who was white-faced and speaking to her husband's colleagues, and some of the boys.

"You see that that too…?" Reed whispered as he moved up to Kurt. Blaine had looked towards Shane and some of the other Windsor boys who were talking very seriously, looking distressed.

"Hard not to…" Kurt replied, glancing briefly at his friend. "I think we should talk to her."

Reed whispered to him. "And say what?"

Kurt raised an eyebrow at his friend. _"We're here for you_ would be a good start." His glance flicked up to the bandage around Reed's head. "How are you? Should you really be walking around? You're also wearing last season's Valentino."

"Oh, I'm going to be okay," Reed replied, shaking his head. "The doctors said that it was actually a good thing that I managed to stay awake after I got hit like that." He glared slightly at Kurt for the rib on his outfit. "I was _distraught; _I'm allowed to make _one_ fashion sacrilege."

"You're made of iron after all your accidents…" Kurt gave him a hug that said that he understood and was only joking.

"One good thing about being a klutz, I guess…" Reed looked up. "Oh. Can you give me a minute? There's…someone I just spotted that I have to talk to really quick before we all sing—"

"Do _not_ run, _look_ at the ground so you do not trip, and—" Kurt snatched the white flowers pinned to Reed's collar. "You're going to end up stabbing yourself with this so I'll take it."

"I'm not five," Reed snorted and rolled his eyes—and tripped over a rock embedded into the soil.

He gasped, flailed his arms, and there was a swift movement and Shane was holding him. The green-gray eyes of the younger Anderson looked warm. "You all right?"

Deep scarlet and ignoring the smirking expression Kurt was bestowing upon him, Reed looked up at Shane and flustered, "Yeah, I'm fine. Totally. You really have to stop doing that, you can't keep an eye on me _all_ the time…"

"Wanna bet?" Shane smiled and Reed rolled his eyes at him, swatting him aside for a moment as he headed towards a figure in a black jacket that didn't fit well on him. Shane looked up to see who he was looking at and smiled. "Micah? You all right?"

"I'm all right," Micah said with a small smile, the bandage on his arm evident under the white shirt. Everything that he was wearing had been borrowed, since he didn't have much of funeral clothes. "I was wondering if I could speak to Reed alone?"

Shane paled just slightly. "What?"

"It's okay," Reed smiled at him and then moved towards Micah, who took his hand with a smile and led him aside.

"But—but—" Shane flustered to his brother who just rolled his eyes and took him aside as well.

"I was worried about you," Reed said, looking up at the taller boy when he released him a way off. "I was wondering what had happened, because mom didn't let me go see anybody."

"I'll be all right," Micah replied with a small smile. "I'm glad that you're all right too. You didn't look so good during that time… I thought something might have happened to you."

Reed looked at him intently. This thought had been distressing him for a while now, and he thought that now was as good a time as any to ask it. "Micah…you know you had no reason to be in that fire. To be in that situation at all. You don't even go to Dalton, and Shane wasn't even in there…! You could have _died,_ Micah!"

"Okay, shh…" Micah looked at him with a warm smile. Reed saw the tape on his glasses and wondered if they had been broken in the fire and if he could give him new ones. Micah had looked after him protectively during the fire, and he now looked at him affectionately. "I knew Shane wasn't in there, but I knew _you_ and Blaine were. And if anything happened to the two of you…Shane might not be able to handle it."

"Shane cares about what happens to you too…" Reed said softly, feeling a little awkward and looking away from him. "If anything had happened to you—"

"No, we're not having a discussion of who Shane will care about more," Micah replied firmly, looking down at him. "I'm just saying that it had been my choice to help you and Blaine. Especially you, since Blaine was still standing and partially able to care for himself in that fire, while you were really in bad shape. I knew I had to take care of you. I think Shane would've wanted this."

"He wouldn't have wanted you hurt. You matter to him. You always have and you always will."

"Hey." Micah put his hands on Reed's shoulders. "Look, I don't want you thinking that way. You're with Shane now, and I practically _hurled _you to him. Seriously. I have no intentions of getting in the way of the both of you. Yes, I love Shane…but he's happy with you and that's what matters to me. It's something I just have to learn to get over. Start fresh and all that. There's no other way to go except forward."

"…Oh, Micah—"

"Look, I've had a lot of religious stuff shoved at me for the past year. And while most of it involved people trying to use it to condemn me for who I am… If there was one thing I actually learned, it's that God notices those who try hard enough to get to a better place in their life. So consider all this as my desperate hope that He notices and throws something good my way." Micah smiled gently. "It's something to hold onto."

Reed smiled at him, eyes misting up, and he gave him a big hug. "Thank you, Micah. …really. Thank you for everything." He released him and looked up. "I…at first I'd been really… Well, before I knew you, I didn't like you all that much—"Micah's smile grew further, "—but now, I wish I was nicer or at least have more of a chance to get to know—" Reed stopped and blinked at him. "Wait, um… Do you…do you get to stay?"

Micah smiled. "I already told the others. I'm staying here in Ohio but…but not in this area. Not really going to be able to see any of you. I plan to go back to my parents and try to…work this whole thing out. Now that I know Shane's going to be okay…I can move on. I want to fight for myself now. This is who I am and I want them to accept me. I know they can."

"Another thing you're holding onto?" Reed smiled.

"Yeah." Micah pushed up his glasses. "I won't be able to come see you guys much. I'll have to work on my own for a while."

"What are you going to do now then?" Reed blinked.

"Oh, I guess for now, I'll make money tutoring…" Micah looked thoughtful. "I've already got some people…"

"Well…before you go," Reed beamed at him, "…at least let me get you new glasses."

"Deal," Micah grinned.

* * *

Kurt had meant to go to Ms. Medel when he had separated from Reed, but before he could move to his teacher, he saw her suddenly get caught in what had to be the most uncomfortable situation she could've ever get herself into—Mrs. Harvey had come over to her late husband's colleagues and started to talk to them, and to Ms. Medel. Kurt watched Ms. Medel's face remain a perfect ivory mask, barely speaking.

"Not a good idea," a voice whispered behind him when he made to head towards Ms. Medel in an attempt to rescue her. When Kurt turned around, he saw Logan standing behind him. Kurt stared—up close, his face looked paler and his eyes were heavily rimmed in dark circles. He looked very tired. "You'll make her look suspicious if you take her aside just as Mrs. Harvey is trying to talk to her," he added softly. "She's already been dodging her."

"You—you know?" Kurt stared, surprised and aghast at Logan's appearance.

"I could tell," Logan replied with a strange smile. "The way they looked at each other sometimes. Had to be something. When I saw the look on Ms. Medel's face today, I knew properly." Logan sighed and fixed his tie absently. "…like your world just broke apart."

Kurt stared at him. After watching Logan unsuccessfully fiddle with his tie, he swatted his hands away and did it for him, but not without a sour expression. "You're going to make it worse. You're singing with us, we have to look our best for our teacher."

"I know. I came because Mr. Harvey…"

"I know." Kurt let go and sighed. He looked at Logan. "You and Ms. Medel have the same look."

Logan looked at him and glanced into the distance. "…yeah, maybe we do."

"The boys talk. They said no one's seen you. Until today anyway." Kurt tried to catch Logan's gaze. "Is it your father who's kept you away?"

"No, my…my father's been acting a little differently." Logan glanced back to where the parents were. They were gathering together, the fathers, and still talking, keeping half an eye out on their sons. He looked back to Kurt. "…he hasn't said anything bad about me all week. …Must be some kind of record. He'll burst soon. He has a reason to…"

"You can't be thinking that any of this was in any way your fault—"

"I was at the hospital all week, or thereabouts. As often as I could."

"Oh." Kurt blinked. "Was it that bad? Where were you hurt?" He looked around for Logan's injuries which didn't really seem all that evident.

Logan simply shook his head. "No, I…" he took a long pause and then muttered, "…I was trying to see Julian."

Ah. So that was why. Kurt lifted his head and kept his face as devoid of expression as possible. "Oh. How…how is he?"

For a moment, it was as though Logan was lost in thought, but Kurt did not see any of the usual signs of his medicated haze. He was clearly simply very occupied in whatever thoughts swirled in the aftermath. "…I…I don't know for sure."

"You're there all week and you don't know…?"

"Dolce Larson." Logan didn't meet his eyes. "His mother won't let anyone at all come and see him… He hadn't…I hadn't seen him since— I…I heard he wasn't awake yet. That's all I know. …Derek and I, we took turns, trying to see if at some point she or any of Julian's people will let us see him, but…Mrs. Larson doesn't want anyone coming near. And after the way my dad talked to her, apparently…" He shook his head.

Kurt looked at him sympathetically and put a hand on his arm, trying to calm him. Strangely, when he put his hand there, Logan was not trembling with repressed rage or shaking with grief. He was still, very still, and seemed filled with the sadness of someone who is looking for a direction or a way to feel. "…he's alive. That's what's most important. He's going to be okay."

"You don't know that—" Logan whispered with some defeat.

"He _will_ be," Kurt glared at him.

"You don't _know_ that! I jumped and left him in there—"

"You didn't have a choice, _no one_ had a choice—!"

"Kurt, if he dies—!"

"Shh!"

A few heads turned. The Windsor boys who had been talking were now looking at them. Kurt found the Twins still as strangely identical as they stood, looking at them. He knew that they couldn't have possibly gotten identical injuries—they must have bandaged themselves to look alike still. They kept close to each other, watching them. The Stuart boys also glanced up, and Derek stood from one of the chairs and took one step forward.

Then Blaine appeared next to Kurt and looked up at Logan. For an instant, the two of them who shared so much history looked at each other as though meeting for the first time. Blaine broke their gaze to pat Logan's arm slightly. "Let's go. …We have to sing for Harvey one last time. …We both owe him."

Kurt nodded and let Blaine step forward to lead Logan with the Warblers, heading towards the coffin with the black lacquer. And as they moved, he heard Blaine whispering to Logan. "…he'll be all right. He's your best friend. …He always comes back. He leaves and he leaves…but he always comes back." Blaine looked at him. "You'll be all right too. You're really too headstrong. You're impossible to stop sometimes. And you have a little too much pride…to let this break you. You've never let anything stop you before. I don't think you'll let this be it."

"And you know me so well…?"

"I just remember a guy – who was supposed to hate me with a passion – calling for extra backup to save my brother from a rockslide, and sat and talked to me when I felt like the world was coming down on my head. You ran into a burning building with me and that whole…mess happened…and you stood by us _and _him the whole time, whether you were in that building by the end or not." Blaine glanced at him. "…I know you enough to know that you're better than what we give you credit for sometimes and what you give yourself credit for."

Logan exhaled, looking up at the sky for a long moment, blinking. "Apparently you're also better than I give you credit for."

Kurt smiled faintly at the sight of the two of them more or less getting along. He supposed that people who had to go through what they did together would find some same ground to meet in. He moved up next to Blaine as the Warblers circled the casket, preparing to sing. Around them, friends and family stood. Logan glanced back and met Derek's gaze. Derek nodded somberly to his friend, but it was encouraging. Logan nodded back.

Silence fell around the grave as all eyes went to the Warblers and the casket. Everyone was still for a moment as the boys looked their last upon the closed lid, and the flowers that rested on top of it.

Blaine took Kurt's hand and squeezed it. While Kurt didn't look back to him, he placed his other gloved hand over Blaine's encouragingly. The curly-haired Warbler whispered, "…thanks, Mr. Harvey. …for everything. …for giving us a chance."

Logan lowered his eyes and whispered something Kurt could only make out as a very small "thank you, sir". Kurt looked at the casket now, and smiled very very slightly, taking a deep breath. "…thank you, Mr. Harvey."

Blaine closed his eyes and began to sing softly as the Warblers joined him.

_There's no one in town I know…_

_You gave us some place to go…._

_I never said thank you for that…_

_I thought I might get one more chance…_

Blaine laid a carnation gently down onto the coffin as he sang, and his hand shook just so slightly as he put down the flower. He managed a small, shaky smile as he gave his teacher a last look.

Kurt moved forward then. He was holding a white carnation, and very gently, he laid it onto the casket. As the bloom slipped away from his fingers, he gave the coffin a long, lingering look before stepping back and lowering his eyes, singing with the others. He wouldn't forget the welcome for as long as he lived. Then he took Blaine's hand, and the two of them moved back to the warblers.

Logan stepped forward after him, and laid another carnation onto the casket. He had stopped singing briefly, to whisper, "…I'll try to make you proud, sir." And stepped back to join the others again, seemingly vanishing amidst the blue blazers.

_What would you think of me now,_

_So lucky, so strong, so proud?_

_I never said thank you for that,_

_Now I'll never have a chance…_

_May angels lead you in…_

_Hear you me my friends…_

_On sleepless roads the sleepless go._

_May angels lead you in…_

Wes stepped forward and nodded once, slowly, to the coffin, in respect, before placing the flower down. He let out his breath, clasped his hands and stepped back, eyes closed. "Goodbye, sir…"

David nodded to him as he passed him and laid down a coffin. His lips were pressed together and he laid his hand on the coffin with the very smallest smile. "…we'll do our best."

Reed smiled at David and Wes before he walked forward. He placed a carnation with a handmade lace ribbon on it, and he smiled faintly at the coffin. "Thank you for taking care of us…"

The Twins helped him walk back, before both of them stepped forward. They stood over the casket, and the two of them placed a single carnation with two ribbons on it. "May angels lead you in…" they whispered.

_So what would you think of me now,_

_So lucky, so strong, so proud?_

_I never said thank you for that,_

_Now I'll never have a chance…_

_May angels lead you in…_

_Hear you me my friends…_

_On sleepless roads the sleepless go._

_May angels lead you in…_

One by one, the Warblers moved to place their carnations onto the casket. Danny stepped back with the smallest repressed sniffle and Wes put an arm around him. Thad crossed himself before stepping back, after he had placed the flowers. Nick and Jeff bowed to the coffin in reverence before they put theirs down. And when Bailey, with scarlet eyes, placed the last two carnations onto the coffin, whispering softly, "Thank you for looking after us, sir…" the Warblers stepped back to let others through.

Blaine looked up when he saw Dwight. He continued to sing, nodding for the younger boy to move forward.

_And if you were with me tonight,_

_I'd sing to you just one more time…_

Dwight came forward slowly, the white carnation he had was wet with his tears. His hands were shaking when he laid it down. And for an instant, they thought he couldn't let go. Then he whispered, "…thank you…for saving me…thank you…"

_A song for a heart so big,_

_God wouldn't let it live…_

He shook with the force of the sobs he tried to stop, and Kurt stepped forward again. He put his arm around his shoulders and gently led him back. "It's okay…" he whispered. "It's okay…" Dwight sank against him, sobbing hard, following him as he led him back to the others.

The Windsors enveloped him their fold. The Twins broke off ranks in the Warblers to move over him protectively and led him carefully back to where his mother stood waiting for him.

_May angels lead you in…_

_May angels lead you in…_

Kurt had just reached Blaine once again when he looked up and watched as their teachers' colleagues then moved forward and began placing flowers as well. His gaze lingered a moment to Ms. Medel, who looked and moved as immaculately as ever. He face was hidden behind the veil on her hat.

He kept singing, watching as she moved forward and placed a white rose—not a carnation, which Mrs. Harvey had said Mr. Harvey had liked when she put them around the house onto the casket. Her hand never shook, but it lingered for the briefest fraction of a second.

Kurt saw a tear slip down her cheek when she finally turned to walk away.

_May angels lead you in…_

_Hear you me my friends…_

_On sleepless roads the sleepless go._

_May angels lead you in…_

The few words the priest said went by so quickly to Kurt—lost in his own thoughts—that before he knew it, the casket was about to be lowered. The family and friends of their deceased teacher surrounded it, and the students ringed this circle of people, glancing amongst each other, many with heads still lowered.

Blaine remained standing outside the ring, and as Kurt stood by him, leaning on his crutch slightly, he saw that the boys around seemed to be filled with great distress. They looked at each other as though anticipating a greater problem. As though Mr. Harvey disappearing from them was a sign of something worse that had been bubbling up for the past few days. Kurt watched as the coffin sank into the blackness and wondered what else they had to fight through this time…and how they would do it.

He felt Blaine move a little closer to him.

"…you know…" Blaine began and then he stopped. When he lowered his eyes towards the jet black casket, Kurt could see his lashes still wet. "…I'm not really all that fond of funerals."

Kurt gently adjusted his sling for a moment and then looked at him. He reached out to take his hand, but Blaine met it halfway. He smiled, and Kurt smiled faintly back. Blaine said, "You know…it's like I can hear his voice in my head. Possibly getting irritated. Wondering why we're so upset, wanting us to move on."

"Well…" Kurt smiled briefly, "…it sounds like something he'd say." He sighed, and looked at the wealth of white lilies that contrasted so powerfully against the coffin. He tightened his hold on Blaine's hand. "What he did for us… I think…maybe he would've wanted us to repay him by…being strong. It's what he'd want, I think."

He looked at Blaine, who looked lost in thought again. "…we'll get through this."

Blaine looked at him and smiled a little. "Yeah."

"That…might be a little more difficult than we anticipated," came a whisper.

The two leads looked up to see Wes and David standing near them. They both looked unsettled. Kurt glanced for a moment, saw that the coffin was gone, and he turned away from the sight of the blackness of the grave and it felt like losing a safety net.

He looked back to the two Windsors who'd moved to them. "What do you mean?"

"There's a problem, and we only realized how big today now that we've managed to talk a bit better, and we're all in one place," Wes said uncomfortably. Next to him, David stepped aside as the Twins also arrived. "It's about the school."

Blaine felt something cold pass him. "…what about the school?" He almost didn't want to ask—because his father and his mother had mentioned something more than once that he didn't want to hear.

"The parents met up and they're petitioning to shut down the school," David whispered, looking at them, distressed. "Even the Alumni. They're waiting until after Mr. Harvey's funeral to do proper work to shut it down."

"Even the Alumni?" Kurt stared.

"No one has been inside school grounds since the fire, no one has been allowed in," the Twins murmured. They looked at each other and then back at Kurt. Evan sighed, "So for over a week, Dalton had been at a standstill."

Ethan nodded. "And the parents are talking, saying they don't want the students to go back into the school after the big security oversight."

"And the architecture of the Hall wasn't helping," Reed added as he and Han came up to the group. He was frowning now. "They're saying that all those paints shouldn't have been in there, that they were flammable and then how the building was built…"

"They've checked the other buildings—nothing was quite as bad as the Art Hall," David muttered. "Good news is, apparently Windsor's the most well-built of the buildings; thing could withstand a gas blast apparently."

"It withstands Drew and Satoru, it better," Han remarked.

"No seriously," Wes broke in, looking at them urgently. "If even the Alums are on board then we're all going to see Dalton shut down! All of us…we'll be separated." He looked at them, and the varying expressions on their faces. "We'll be taken to other schools, or overseas. We'll…have to start all over with different people. And…we'd only see each other in the vacations and…"

"…and the Warblers will be gone." Blaine finished, closing his eyes. He didn't dare turn to look to the grave again. "Not that…that's the biggest concern, but…"

They all knew what he meant. Mr. Harvey's boys were going to be separated. Their friends would be going elsewhere now. Silence fell amongst them all.

After a moment, Blaine whispered, "Even your dad, David…?"

David shook his head sadly. "Dad said he didn't want to really…close the school down but…but considering the situation…what the other parents are making out of it—and Julian! He isn't even conscious yet!"

"How do you know?" Kurt frowned a little.

"Everyone from school knows Mrs. Larson's got her son locked up in steel hoops. That not even Logan or Derek can come see him. Although as far as most of the media is concerned, Julian's had an "incident" with a stalker and is undergoing recovery."

"Everyone's trying pretty hard to cover up the worst of what's happened here…" Reed murmured. "More for the Larsons' sake, really. They said they didn't want full details of what happened inside the art hall public…other than the stalker part."

"My dad agreed," Kurt murmured, remembering a conversation with his father while he was still in the hospital. "He said it…might be for the best that everyone doesn't know everything that happened inside the Hall. And for Adam's family."

The boys all winced at the name. But it was true.

When Mr. and Mrs. Clavell came to the hospital, everyone knew. Everyone had stared, watching as they made their way to see their son, who was in the hospital psych ward, away from everyone injured, and was cuffed to the handrails of his bed. The parents had arrived by police escort but no one came near them. Kurt had seen Adam's parents, because they had tried to speak to him. They had tried to speak to everyone that their son had hurt. Burt didn't let her speak to Kurt…but he did talk to her outside. He saw through their shadows through the glass.

Mrs. Clavell looked like a good woman, and Mr. Clavell looked like a quiet man. But both of them had clearly looked so very tired. As though just hearing the news of what happened here in the school was enough to drain them of whatever vitality they possessed.

According to Burt, Adam's parents had no idea about what their son had been doing. They knew he liked to be by himself, that he could get particularly…worked up about some things. They knew that there was trouble at his old school, about how some of the other students treated him, but again and again, Adam had simply retreated into his room and didn't tell them much. They thought Adam would be all right, at least until he got through high school.

They thought wanting to go to a new school was a sign that he was starting to get unhappy, and he wanted to get away from things. When they heard about the distance, they weren't sure, but Adam had so viciously demanded to be sent there and so they felt they had to concede. So they let him. They had no idea of what their son was doing, had done. But they were silent, very very silent, when they took their son away with them, and they were followed by the stares of all the other parents.

"But my dad did also say…" and Kurt let out his breath, "that he's furious that the school wasn't able to protect us. That he agreed to send me to Dalton to be safe and this…isn't part of the package. I think he's on their side."

Han shook his head a little, looking uncomfortable. "Overlooking a killer stalker in school is a big deal—"

"_No_ _school_ is prepared for a killer stalker," Wes muttered darkly.

"Fact stands," David muttered, "A teacher's—_Mr. Harvey_ died, a lot of us got injured—"

"We went in there by ourselves," Blaine reminded them.

"Tell _them_ that!"

Kurt held a hand up for silence. Then he looked at the Tweedles. "…so you're saying… after all this, that we can't…we can't even pick up the pieces and try to fix it? That officially…we are going to get our school shut down?"

The Twins looked at each other and then back at him. Evan said, "Not…officially just yet."

Ethan nodded slowly. "There's a board meeting later this evening. They were waiting until after the funeral. The people who run the school will be talking then. But they say that, with all this coverage…" he glanced to the fences. Cameras clicked distantly, as though trying to see who had come to the funeral. "…it might just be formality."

The boys all let out their breaths.

After a pause, Han began to say, "I should've—"

"Stop," Blaine responded immediately with a direct stare to him. "…no one is going to start any sentence with "I should have" when it comes to this. No one is going to start blaming anything on themselves. This…this was out of our control."

"We had the illusion we _had_ control," Kurt muttered. He looked back to the grave. "…no one did. We couldn't have imagined any of this would happen."

"Yeah well…" Reed murmured softly, "…_someone_ is blaming himself."

"Who?" David blinked.

"Logan was. I heard him."

And Blaine looked to the sky, exhaling into it as though it explained his distress.

_Where _**is **_Logan…? _Kurt wondered as he looked around. The ceremony was over, people were starting to leave, some of them, but he realized that he hadn't seen Logan since he placed the carnation on the coffin. He looked around and couldn't find the willowy blond anywhere.

His eyes landed on Derek, who was still amongst the mass of Stuarts to one side. They were gathered together, also looking worried, and there was no sign of their prefect.

"…Hey."

Derek didn't look up from where he kept his head down, staring at the coffin and the people around it singing. Bailey elbowed him again. "Hey!"

"What?" Derek hissed, in no position to humor him.

"Look."

Derek looked up, and froze. A girl with long dark hair, wearing a trim black dress, looking more formal than he'd ever seen her, was walking to him from where she broke off the contingent of Dobry Hall girls who had also come to pay their respects, and to help their counterpart school through the situation. She walked towards him with steady purpose, the same way she had done when she had walked away from him some months ago. For a moment, he stared. "…Casey…?"

He couldn't see her expression from behind the sunglasses she was wearing (they were the same Chanel sunglasses he'd bought for her), but she clutched her black purse tightly as though she was fighting her own will. Derek swallowed and glanced back to the casket once more before going to her, the Stuarts staring after him.

"…Casey?"

"Derek," Casey replied, looking up at him as she removed the sunglasses. Her eyes were red as she looked up at the bandage he wore. "A-Are you… I heard—I heard about what happened. To you and your friends and…and the fire and you got—" She took a breath and made herself regain composure. "…are you okay?" she said fervently, almost demanding, which was her usual way.

Derek stared at her and then pulled her against him and held her tightly, closing his eyes as he clasped her close. The girl seemed startled for a moment, but she didn't fight his grasp as she normally would've. When she felt him shake, repressing a sob, she put a hand on his back.

"Who is that?" Kurt asked, surprised.

"Casey Lambert," Wes said with a faint smile. "The only girl who got Derek to come close to settling down. They dated, exclusively, for two whole months, which for Derek was a record."

"Nice of her to come by…" David remarked. "He looks like he needs her." He saw Katherine among the Dobry girls and nodded to his friends before making a beeline towards her. Kurt glanced to Blaine and whispered, "Shouldn't he be with his best friend?"

"I think his best friend is with their other best friend," Blaine replied softly. "I saw Logan leave after the song. …he had talked to Derek, I think he went off somewhere. His father and Michelle are still here, so…"

"He went back to the hospital…" Kurt murmured, considering. "Blaine…I don't know how you feel about him right now, but I think he needs someone to talk to. We have to talk to him. He didn't sound right earlier, you talked to him—"

"Kurt," Blaine smiled at him. "Kurt, I know. I understand. To be honest, I'm pretty worried about him too. I think we should go see him, talk to him. We have to see how Julian's doing anyway."

"We'll go with you!" the Twins volunteered.

"I'm sorry, but that is not possible."

The group of them looked up. Mr. Brightman was walking to them, with Audrey Brightman. She smiled softly at the group of Windsors and signed, "Hello. How are you boys doing? We were worried."

"Doing better," Reed replied with a smile, one of the Twins signing simultaneously for Audrey's benefit.

"Why can't we go?" the other Twin asked their father.

Mr. Brightman looked around at the group of boys, looking a little sad. He hadn't wanted to close the school either, but with the mounting pressure, some of the people who were going to be in the board meeting felt that this might be the only way to curb a very possible backlash against the school. Already a number of parents have expressed yanking their sons from the Academy.

It was for the best, he told himself, and that was what John and the others had said as well.

Mr. Brightman spoke, but he signed as well, for the benefit of his daughter. "I need you to gather up your classmates. And you're to go back into school grounds."

"We can go back?" Reed's eyes lit up and Kurt looked in surprise.

Mr. Brightman smiled sadly at Reed. Audrey answered, looking sad. "…you have to go back to your dormitories to get your things," one of the twins said out loud for the others.

"Get…our things…" Han stared.

"What do you mean get our things?" Dwight suddenly spoke, coming up to them, eyes wide.

The twins' father exhaled and replied, "…the board thinks their decision will be made final tonight. Or at least by tomorrow. We want the boys to go back into the dormitories and clear out their things…and tomorrow the school will be closed."

Kurt stared at him with the same expression as all the other boys. "…you're…you're really doing it. You're closing our school."

* * *

**_In the next episode_**_: They say that friends are the family you choose for yourself. Warblerland's occupants stand and look to each other, the ones they still have, the ones they could possibly lose, as they struggle to pick up the pieces through words, memories, and music. Especially when it seems as though they would not even get the chance to move on from this together. In the fight to retain hope, the boys' courage as friends, as a little family, is tried one more time when Dalton Academy's shut down comes to a head. (for more news and updates and early-release updates about Dalton, visit **cpcoulter dot com**.)_


	28. Siege

**Author's Notes:**

_Hi, I'm CP Coulter and I'm your author for this fic._

_I think it's fitting that with such a big plot event happening this episode, quite a great deal of people show up. Like in a Marvel wedding, when a superhero gets married, everybody comes to give support appearing briefly, before it returns focus on the main people. And I think Dalton needs its sons in its darkest hour (like Sparta). Those who may have followed its creation progress might note changes in plan here and there, as it had to develop into something I can be happy to give. This include those who have seen the first part as previewed in my tumblog._

_This episode may not be the grand magnificent thing that people might expect, the great episode that should rightly be here after it took so very long, but it warms me to say that I am happy with how it is, at long last. I have to thank the people who have been my support in all this, which includes my family and friends, and everyone who has ever even so much as glanced at this fic during its journey, and in the time spent preparing this episode.  
_

_I wanted to take this time to say that **Siege** goes out to:_

_Those who stayed, those who left,_

_Those who came back, those who moved on,_

_Those who have loved it, have hated it,_

_Those who gave it so much as a glance,_

_To everyone, wonderful, beautiful, who gave it even the smallest moment._

_Thank you. :) You have no idea what that all that means to me. Our lives are the most precious thing we have and to choose to spend even a moment on it (a moment of loving or hating it, of neutral whattheheckisthis) is already huge, which says nothing about how gargantuan my love is for those who have kept on it. As long as I live, I won't forget, I honestly believe that. :)_

_I hope, as I always do, that you will enjoy this episode._

_(Disclaimer: I don't own Glee. Just this odd little fic.)_

* * *

**Dalton**

**Episode 28: Siege**

* * *

"Hey, Kurt."

Kurt looked up when he saw two familiar figures walking up to him. The funeral attendees were starting to drift away, some in small packs, while others lingered, talking to one another. And now, coming up to him, was someone else who he'd seen as his teacher. Mr. Schuester smiled as he came up to him, and to his surprise, Rachel was also present, clothed in a very proper black dress that Kurt dearly wished to shorn the hemline of for an instant.

"Mr. Schue?" surprised, Kurt moved away from where he was with his father, stepmother, Blaine, as well as Mrs. Anderson to go speak to his former choirmaster. "Rachel?" he blinked at her. "What are you two doing here…? I didn't see you in the church…"

"Well, Greg was a fellow choirmaster and I thought it was only right of me to come here to pay respects…especially after he looked after you in the Warblers," Mr. Schuester replied with a smile, patting Kurt's shoulder. "And, well, Rachel insisted on coming with me."

"That," she interjected immediately, giving Kurt a direct look, "is because during that Valentines' Day carnival of yours, Mr. Harvey had been very courteous to all of us and even complimented me, and he can clearly acknowledge the strength of their future competition. I mean normally we'd be accused of being spies, but he was…kind. Very kind." Rachel nodded after a thoughtful pause. "He seemed like a very good man. We hadn't known him for long, but he seemed kind."

"He was," Kurt smiled a little, glancing down for a moment before lifting his gaze back at them. "I appreciate you guys being here. Really. I—it means a lot to all of us."

"He'd been a great teacher, Kurt," Mr. Schuester replied with a nod. "That boy who gave the eulogy… It really showed what a great job he did as a teacher to all of you, not just the Warblers."

"We actually came here to see how you were doing after getting out of the hospital, too…" Rachel said, looking at Kurt with genuine concern in her brown eyes, "…and to see how you're handling all this."

"I'm…handling it." Kurt replied, sighing as he sat down on one of the carved stone benches. "There's a lot of things to think about…and we don't even know where to begin. It looks like our problems aren't over just yet."

There was a pause as Rachel glanced at Mr. Schuester and moved to where Kurt sat. She settled carefully on the bench next to him and gave him a small smile. "Yeah, we…we heard some of your schoolmates talking and the parents talking…" she gave him a questioning expression. "…Are they really going to close down your school?"

Kurt glanced at her and nodded slightly. "That's what Mr. Brightman told us…. They want us to clear our things out. We told him that considering all the stuff in there, we're not sure if it could be done, so they're talking to the parents about letting us stay one more night in the school to finish taking everything down. We wanted to be responsible taking down our dorms. They might close the school by the afternoon of tomorrow. And…and we go someplace else. Separate. All of us."

For a moment, Kurt sank his face into his hand. "All of us, we're going away. My new friends, people I lived with through all…this…" Kurt gestured absently into the cold air. "We don't even get a shot to fix it. It's just…over. They decided for us. And we're stuck with that decision. And considering the situation with Blaine and his family, I…"

Rachel reached over with a sigh and slipped an arm around his shoulders in an attempt to comfort him. "…you'll still see him, right?"

"Shane said that their mother and father want to take them both to live in California and start over. That's on the other side of the country, Rachel." Kurt pursed his lips. "And his father isn't really my biggest fan."

"Oh…"

"And it's not just that." Kurt glanced at Rachel and shook his head. "…I'm going to have to start over again…just when I managed to get comfortable with them. All of them. …like they waited until I decided I liked them all, even the really snooty ones who you want to wish root canals to sometimes."

"You're talking about those guys from the red house, right?" Rachel grinned.

"Stuart, yes, them too." Kurt sighed, shaking his head. "They…_grew_ on me." He rolled his eyes and he picked at a piece of lint on his deep black jacket. His eyes wandered to where the Windsors were still talking, looking distressed. In the face of separation, they stuck together, trying to find a way. "…I just feel like I'm leaving family again."

Mr. Schuester sat down with them and sighed, looking warmly at Kurt. "You've been through a really rough couple of weeks, Kurt… These things are a little beyond our control. Bad things happened and it always seems like it's the worst but you move forward. It's not like you'll lose contact with them forever; they're your friends, they'll still be there."

"It wouldn't be the same." Kurt gazed absently into the distance. "Just like it wasn't the same when I moved away from you guys and into Dalton. It's a…different atmosphere there. …Not bad, just…different."

Rachel rubbed his back a little, also looking absently at the grass. It wasn't after a long pause when she decided to say what had been on her mind. "You know…if your school is closing down, you can always…" Rachel smiled a little at him; the kind of smile that people used when they were obviously trying to help but wasn't sure if what they were going to say was really going to help, "…you can always come back to McKinley. Back with us."

And the thing was…that wasn't the first time during all this that Kurt had that thought crossing his mind. He looked at Rachel for a moment, and then looked back at Mr. Schuester, who just smiled faintly. "She makes a fair point, Kurt. You could come back to us and we could make sure that your well-being is looked out for."

"I don't think you have to worry about Karofsky," Kurt remarked with a small smile. "We…I think we've come to some kind of understanding."

"Then the offer stands," Rachel's smile broadened.

Kurt glanced at her and then looked back to the Windsors. It wasn't as though he expected to lose contact with them entirely—he knew that no one there would actually allow it, if they hadn't even let him go to Lima for break without getting invaded by their hyperactivity. But he realized that maybe he feared it. Losing contact with them. More people to detach away from. Bad things happened, and now he had to make another move. But this time, it wasn't by choice.

And then for a moment, he wondered, _Is this really it…? After tonight, when we've all packed, is that it? We say our goodbyes, we separate to various places…? I'll…lose Blaine because he'll be all the way in the West Coast…? So much for our dreams of being together until we set off for Broadway and New York… I wouldn't see Wes and David—haven't even seen where they live… I'll probably actually miss those crazy Twins, but they'll probably be taken overseas…. I won't see Reed anymore, if his mother will have anything to say about it…. Dwight could adapt anywhere, there's no changing someone like that…. And then the Warblers…the people I know from here…. It's just…goodbye._

"…And after everything too." Kurt murmured.

"Excuse me?" Rachel blinked.

"Nothing." Kurt carefully began to stand. Mr. Schuester stood with him, handing him the crutch. Kurt could walk without it, but he did promise his dad that he wouldn't put all that much stress. He looked up at his former teacher with an intent blue stare. "I'll think about it, Mr. Schue. But…it's nice to know that I'll always have you guys to look out for me. That's…more than I expected out of high school."

Rachel smiled and hugged him again. Kurt allowed her, patting her back and wincing when she hugged tighter for an instant and he could feel creases on his jacket. Rachel's smile was bright and sunny as she looked up at him. "It'll be okay, right?"

Kurt just nodded. _It has to be_.

* * *

_I'm Kurt. And this is Dalton Academy._

_Mr. Harvey is gone. It takes some accepting, still._

_But I think if he was here…he'd know what to do about our problem now._

_The school is closing._

_And we're all not ready to let go._

* * *

"Hey Kurt!" The Windsor boys were flailing to him now, looking anxious to speak to him. "Come on!"

The "Alice" rolled his eyes. "Duty calls."

"We'll see you soon, okay Kurt?" Mr. Schuester nodded and smiled. "If you need us, you can call, okay?" and he let Kurt move back to the Windsors.

Blaine met him halfway, looking concerned, and in response Kurt shot him an I'm-fine-relax expression before turning his attention to the other boys. "What is it?"

"We have all decided to head back to the school in the Brightmans' car," Blaine replied, as if "car" was anybody's normal term for "stretch limousine." "Are you coming with us? You and Reed have a lot of stuff in there, mainly clothes. You should start early."

Kurt nodded a little. "I suppose we'll have to. Pick up a lot of clothing bags along the way."

"Mom said she'll send me a lot; I'll give you some," Reed replied with a small smile.

"Hey Alice," The Twins suddenly broke in, looking to the place where Kurt had come from. Behind him, Mr. Schuester and Rachel were standing with Ms. Medel and they all seemed to be talking. Two pairs of blue eyes grew big at Kurt. "That talking flower you were talking to earlier—what were you talking about?"

Kurt hesitated. He glanced at Blaine, who was also looking expectant. "My old teacher Mr. Schue…he and Rachel said that if Dalton was closing down, I could always go back. To…New Directions. I mean, I think it would make sense. If I did."

There was an awkward pause where they didn't look at him much, as though they weren't sure of what to say. Of course Kurt had McKinley. But of course…they wondered what this meant for the rest of them. Kurt had arrived just this year, but he was just as much—if not more—a Dalton boy as the rest of them. Especially after everything that had happened, and all they've been through together. Losing Kurt was as terrible to them as losing any of their friends, to distance, to change.

Wes and David, the first people to bring Kurt into Windsor along with Blaine, tried to find something to say and failed. Reed looked as though he wanted to say something but didn't think it was appropriate. The Twins seemed to know what _they_ wanted to say however, because they looked at Kurt with the same unfaltering stare they gave him that same first day in Dalton Academy. The twins looked a little pleased. "Then, we're glad."

"You are?" Kurt gave them an incredulous look. For the past several months, he'd been their "Alice". He had thought that the Twins would be the second most unhappy—after Blaine—to see him go.

The Twins only smiled warmly at him. "…Because then we don't have to worry about someone taking care of you."

"We'd been wondering ever since dad said we were all going to separate…" Evan murmured.

"…About whether or not you'll be all right," Ethan continued. "You're our friend, Kurt. We don't want anything untoward to happen to you now that we can't watch over you the way we want to."

It was strange for Kurt to hear these things, and stranger still to see the small smiles on the other boys' faces that proved that they agreed. They cared about him, and they had come to really like the boy who had become their headstrong, determined Alice. He gave them a slightly confused and rather pleased look. "…Really."

Dwight shrugged a little. He still looked pale, and his eyes were red and his nose was red, but he looked composed and a bit more like his old self. "You're one of us, aren't you…? Of course we'll care."

Kurt turned when he felt Blaine staring at him. "We'll…miss you horribly," Blaine replied with a faint smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. There was something about the way he said it that made it seem as though there was even more to it than he made it seem. "…_I _know I'll miss you more than I could possibly…" he waved his hand like he was waving away the rest of the sentence into the wind, "…but all I care about is that you'd be somewhere safe and happy. I want good things for you and I want you happy and loved."

"You're not allowed to say goodbye to me yet," Kurt replied quietly, giving him an intent look and letting Blaine tug him a little closer. Blaine's smile grew a little as Kurt added, "It's not time for goodbyes yet."

"No matter what you choose to do…no matter where you go…in the end…you're not chasing the Rabbit. I'll always be with you. Remember, that, okay?" Blaine smiled and reached over to hug him as their friends smirked at each other and restrained themselves from their usual reaction. Blaine shot them a "don't say it" look anyway as he held Kurt, close. Kurt smiled as he kept his arms around Blaine, trying to swallow back the cold realization that not long from now, he might not be able to hold him like this again for a long time.

The Twins merely confined themselves to grinning again in Rachel's direction, saying, "We like that little flower. She's pretty and she seems sweet."

Kurt choked, releasing Blaine. "_Rachel_?"

"What…?" the Twins blinked back innocently. Evan added, "She's pretty and small, like a doll…" as Ethan nodded, "And she can sing…"

"And she's taken, by my stepbrother, now shush." Kurt raised his palm to them for silence, looking as though he wasn't in the mood to really hear this right now. "Should we go?" he asked instead to everyone else, while the Twins stood looking amused. "If we're going to make sure everyone is okay…and besides, I'm not sure if the so-called "Knave" has been told that we have to pack up by tonight."

Blaine nodded. "We should get going; I'll go with you."

"Rabbit, you have to come with us, though," the Twins reminded him.

"What? Why?"

"Back to the old digs. You've got a huge room to take down so you better get cracking," Han reminded him. "The theater alone's going to be a pain. Your single's got a lot of other people's stuff in it too; you want them to go rummaging through your things?"

Blaine paled at the thought of the Twins, Wes, and David ransacking his room. "No! You all stay out of my room if I'm not in it. Wait, what about Logan?" Blaine looked at Kurt with a small frown.

"I think I can handle him by myself," Kurt replied easily. "He needs to get some sense into him." He gave Blaine a reassuring expression. "I'll be fine, trust me. And apparently, nowadays you can trust him."

Blaine smiled faintly. "That wasn't what I was thinking of. …Whatever you tell him…it'll come from the both of us. I think he needs to know people care."

As Kurt nodded with a smile, Shane asked the others, "How come you don't threaten to go into Kurt's room?"

"That's different," the Twins answered calmly. "We just barely escaped death; we're not willing to look it in the face again."

Kurt gave them a withering grimace. "Ha ha. I'll see you guys back at Windsor." He let Blaine give him a kiss on the cheek, flushing only slightly. "Be good to Blaine and Charlie while I'm gone."

"One last batch of cookies, please Alice? For old time's sake? We'll help you clean out your room." The Twins looked hopeful, and the others perked up.

Kurt couldn't help but smile. "I'll think about it."

* * *

Kurt and his father had a lot to talk about as the latter drove him to the hospital at his request. It seemed clear, from what they discussed, that Burt wanted Kurt in a safer environment, and was leaning towards returning Kurt to McKinley. "If those people can't even look after the bigwigs' kids then how can I think they can look after my son?" Burt had said, still upset. "You're the most important thing in the world to me, Kurt, and I could've lost you then. I don't know what I would do if I had. I don't know if I trust these people anymore."

"I trust them," Kurt had replied carefully. "Mr. Harvey was one of them. If what he was willing to do was any indication…"

There had been an awkward pause after that.

Burt told his son that he would wait outside for him, to tell him if he was ready to go back to Dalton. Before Kurt had walked in, however, Burt looked at him through the window. "Hey, Kurt."

"Yes?" Kurt leaned back to the car, his hand on the glass of the window.

Burt gave his son a long look. Kurt remembered that this was the way his father looked at him all those years back at another funeral, during the funeral of someone so precious to them both. It was the look you gave someone when you're trying to tell them how you were the most important thing to them right now, and that because you were all that's left of that joy, you're even more precious. And people can be protective over important things, even more towards important people. "I just want you to be happy. You know that, right?"

"I know, dad," Kurt smiled back.

Burt nodded to him and Kurt stepped back watching him as he headed to the hospital parking lot. And then Kurt headed into the blast of cold air inside the hospital. For a moment, he wasn't sure where to go. If he went and asked a nurse, she might tell Mrs. Larson that he was here, but he didn't know where Julian's room even was—

"Hey. Hey, kid!"

Kurt looked up at the hissing tone. A tall woman in a crisp suit was flailing to him as surreptitiously as possible and crossing the lobby to him. Before Kurt could speak, she gestured to his uniform. "I assume you're here to see him?" she said immediately as she led him off.

"Him?"

"Julian, he's the only one left here," she retorted.

She wasn't particularly impolite but she seemed to be in a perpetual hurry, and wasn't very interested in him. She also did not make much of an effort to slow down so he could keep up. Annoyed, Kurt yanked off his crutch so he could walk a little more properly. She barely looked at him—more down to her Blackberry—as she added, "You shouldn't come in through the front; we're trying to avoid cameras trying to catch his visitors. Why are you in uniform? It's like a beacon."

Kurt raised an eyebrow at her and leveled a devastating blue gaze. "Our teacher got _buried_ today."

"Oh. I'm sorry." Again. Not impolite, but not particularly like she meant it with all the sincerity it deserved. They both stepped into an elevator at least and Kurt caught his breath at last. She added, "You can join the other one who's already in there."

"I thought Ms. Larson said no visitors?" Kurt stared in surprise.

"Yes, no visitors, but you can come only while Dolce isn't here. She's out talking to doctors in LA; she doesn't like the ones here. That one that came before you had been coming all week, I let him in because it was getting a little sad to watch." She let out a small snort that almost sounded like a laugh. "Other visitors are coming anyway."

Okay, maybe not _completely_ unlikeable, if she was willing to bend rules a little, Kurt decided as he followed her into the second floor. "Is the other visitor tall, blond, and…Abercrombie?" Kurt rolled his eyes as he remembered Mercedes' description.

The woman smirked a little as they moved through an entryway. "Logan? Yes, him."

"You know him?"

"He's always sending Julian texts along with Derek, and I've met him more than once. Of course I know him." She stopped at a long, empty hallway. She gestured Kurt on. "It's 216, but you'll know which one."

"What do you mean?"

She didn't answer because she was already tapping a message into her phone, but Kurt realized what she meant when he walked down the hall and came to 216 at the end. He thought that it was because unlike the other rooms, the shades were drawn completely.

But then he noticed that as soon as he came close enough, he could hear music. In the silence of this ward of great glass and white wall, he could hear a sound coming from the crack of the door.

A piano.

And it was like ripple of déjà vu as he heard it being played in a way that he'd heard before—several months ago…. The familiar melody…a song he knew….

"_I was thinking about you…thinking about me…. It was only just a dream…"_

Kurt couldn't help but gently smile as he silently pushed the door open a little more and found what he sought.

Lying on the bed of the room was a still form that he hadn't seen since the fire. Lack of consciousness aside, Julian's appearance was better than what anyone had expected. There were still some bandages on him, and he had intravenous tubes going into his veins and wires going into machines that made a steady beep of a heart that was still beating.

Sitting on a couch nearby, with a keyboard set up—one he had remembered seeing in a Stuart House room—was Logan, picking lightly at the keys, looking listless and singing absently. For a moment, the music was allowed to fade as Logan stared at the black and white keys, and then he resumed playing, as though he decided to start over.

Music in the air, the deep breath before he sang sounded like an effort. "_I was thinking about you, thinking about me…thinking about us, what we're gonna be, I opened my eyes…"_

"_It was only just a dream…_" Kurt sang softly as he joined him in harmony, stepping inside. Logan lifted his eyes to him, not really surprised, and his eyes lit up just that little bit more as Kurt sat next to him. He continued to play, the two of them looking to the boy on the bed as they sang.

"_I travel back down that road,_

_When you'll come back—no one knows;_

_I realized…it was only just a dream…_"

Logan let the music fade again. Finally, he slipped his fingers away from the keyboard and sighed. The room became still, with nothing but the heart monitor making the steady beeping. Logan sighed softly and Kurt felt him lean against him. It made him wonder if Logan was absorbing strength from him.

"We have to stop meeting like this," Kurt murmured lightly after a moment. "I keep finding you like this."

Logan managed to crack a small smile as he gazed at the keyboard. "If my music was a cry for help, then you must be emergency services…." But his expression was sincere as he leveled a gaze to Kurt. "…I'm glad you're here."

"Blaine and I may have been more worried about you than we let on…" Kurt simply smiled again, and glanced around the room. The only sign of someone else having been in there was a very expensive jacket lying on one of the chairs. He immediately knew that it was Julian's mother's—seeing as how that jacket was inaccessible to anyone who didn't have immediate access to the latest Paris catwalks had to offer. Kurt spotted a little critter in a cage, snoozing in its little box nest inside, away from the hospital lights. "…Is…that supposed to be in a—"

"He's Julian's pet," Logan shook his head slightly.

"A hedgehog?"

"Don't ask."

Kurt shrugged a little and sighed, remembering the school celeb's rather prickly attitude. "Makes sense I guess." He made one more once over in the room before looking back to Logan and nudging him slightly. "…how is he?" Kurt finally asked.

Logan nodded slowly, staring, drinking the sight in, as though this was the only answer he could give. He did ask all week to look at this, and he wished Derek was here to help him process it. But he saw Derek with Casey, and he didn't want to tear him from _some _happiness after all his friend had been through. He did send a text telling him that he had been allowed to see Julian.

At least he had Kurt, and Kurt's presence had this way of calming him; it always had. He was just never sure if he was allowed to feel that way. "He's…he's doing a lot better. I asked the doctor who came in to peek a little earlier. They said his body is still in some shock. They think the only reason he's still asleep is because his body is trying to repair and gather strength. And…"

He paused. He looked at his hands, and he closed them into fists for a moment to stop the trembling. "…They said it was up to his mind. It was up to whatever he was thinking. If he was going to wake up or not. Ball's in his court now."

Kurt nodded slowly. Of course. It was always the mind that was important—the human will is a powerful thing. You had to will yourself back over the brink. You had to keep fighting; you had to _want_ to keep fighting, or no medical aid in the world can help you. "He's got to want to be here. I mean, _you're_ here. He should know that people want him here."

"I had to be here, because…I didn't want him to be alone…" Logan's voice broke at the last word, making Kurt look at him. Logan was clutching onto the last shreds of composure—Kurt saw his shoulders shaking with repressed sobs, and Logan's eyes couldn't seem to stay on the prone form across them. His eyes flicked from it, to other things in the room—_any_ other thing in the room. "I didn't want him to think no one wanted him back. I wanted to make sure he could come back. I don't…I don't really care about what he thinks, I don't care if he doesn't want to come back—_I_ want him to come back—because he always…" a choke—Kurt reached out to him— "…I didn't want him to be alone because the last time I left him alone—"

And then the wall dissolved. Logan broke down entirely, sinking his face into his hands and crying the way he had when he'd held Julian after the fire, begging him to wake up. "This can't be happening—this isn't happening—_why _is this happening?!" He didn't even sound as though he was talking to anyone but himself anymore. Kurt stared at him and tried to rub his shoulders but Logan sat up suddenly. "I can't—I can't do this here, I can't cry in front of him—"

Logan flew out the door before another word could be said. Kurt followed him, worried he would get into some kind of trouble during this hysterics; when people who've held it all in the way he had, when they suddenly break, it has to flood out—it had to drain itself out.

The two of them fled down halls, one after another, making nurses and other visitors stare. Logan didn't stop running until he found an empty side-hall—the sun shining obnoxiously bright through the windows, as though it couldn't be bothered to understand the gravity of the situation—and he threw himself against the wall and punched it before sliding down onto the ground, sobbing. Kurt immediately moved to him, holding onto his shoulders and trying to calm him down. "Logan! Logan, come on, you have to calm down—"

"I can't!" Logan practically screamed back at him before shoving his face into his hands again, completely flushed with rage and the crying. His knuckles were scarlet and Kurt inspected them, fearing he had popped open his skin again. "I can't, okay?! It's all happening all at once!"

"I know, I know, okay? I know," Kurt struggled to calm him but he was getting scared. Clearly Logan had little control over his emotions now that they all decided to happen at one go, it was too much. "Logan. Logan, please, take a breath or something, okay? Come on." He grabbed onto him trying to hold him and Logan shook with the force of his sobs as he hung onto Kurt. Kurt winced as Logan clutched tightly onto him, weeping openly.

A nurse who had seen them running had come after them and she rounded the bend and saw them. "What's going on? Are you two all right?"

"We're fine," Kurt replied shortly as he held Logan, who was practically in hysterics. "He's just worked up, we've been through a lot this past week—"

"I think maybe I should get him a sedative—"

"_No!_" both he and Logan practically shouted at the same time, staring at her. Logan coughed and blinked at the nurse. "No, please. Really. I'm just…uh…" he glanced at Kurt and then looked back at the nurse and just shook his head. "I just need a minute, please? Please? Leave us alone?"

"Okay…" the nurse nodded slowly, still staring at them. She looked at Kurt. "Honey, if he gets any worse—"

"Please go away, or I _will_ make myself get worse!" Logan shot back almost desperately before Kurt could say something. "I need to be alone—"

"All right, all right, just please, you have to keep it down; there are patients here who really need rest." She gave Logan a long look and said, "Whatever it is, sweetie…it's going to be all right. Okay?"

Logan couldn't even fake looking reassured by her words; he just stared at her until she left. Kurt was sure that she was still hovering at the other hall listening when Logan sank against him and starting sobbing. "Sorry…I'm sorry, I…. What the hell was I even doing…?"

"Let it out," Kurt replied, patting his back heavily, sighing. "Come on. That's what I do when something truly crappy happens—I cry, allow some self-pity for five minutes and then pull it back together. So just…just cry, go on."

And he did. It didn't really last more than ten minutes—Logan felt as though crying about anything was beneath him, and he hated showing weakness. He hated showing weakness in front of people. But at this point, everything simply flooded out. This was something he couldn't stop anymore. He had asked to feel. And now that he felt it all…he felt as though he was going to explode. Kurt couldn't do more than keep the tide from dragging him away.

After a while, the sobs began to abate. He started to quiet down. Kurt let out his breath. Logan sank against him, and his hold on Kurt tightened. "…I'm so glad you're here…" he whispered, painfully sincere. "…I don't know what I would've done if you were…if you were like that too."

"I don't know how much help I am—you've already got a lot on your mind, from the looks of it." Kurt was certain that his presence complicated matters, considering Logan's current frame of thinking.

"Do you think he…he…" Logan whispered, struggling to make himself clear and making Kurt look at him. Logan raised bloodshot green eyes at him and Kurt stared, murmuring, "Sorry?"

"…do you think he'll forgive me?"

Kurt sat back on his heels. There it was. "Forgive you?" he asked.

Logan shook his head and leaned back against the wall, letting out his breath, calmer now than before, his breath starting to go back to normal. He closed his eyes and his lashes were matted wet. "I feel…like an idiot. And I don't know what to do."

"Welcome to puberty." Kurt leaned against the wall with a sigh next to him. "When you figure it out, tell the rest of us what to do."

"I'm the wrong person for that job." Logan shook his head, looking guilty and disgusted. He plucked out his Stuart badge with hands anxious to do something. He flung it to the opposite wall. "…I can't believe I cried in front of you. I can't believe I cried in front of him."

Kurt watched the badge clatter. "Do you seriously think he's going to take that against you?" Kurt shot him a sideways glance.

"He might." Logan stared out the window. Sunshine peeked cheerily through the trees. He thought it was appallingly inappropriate. "He'd tell me to get up and deal with it."

"Shouldn't you take his advice, then?" Kurt replied simply. "If that's what _you_ think he'd want. You know him better than I do."

"But you knew his secret before I did," Logan looked at him intently now, questioning. "…you knew, didn't you? It's why you didn't want him to say it up at the Hall."

He knew he was going to hate the third floor of the Art Hall for the rest of his life. Kurt swallowed a little and nodded slowly, not meeting his gaze. "I did. But he didn't want me to tell you, it wasn't my secret to tell, and I don't blow other people's covers. He had the choice to tell you himself."

"He didn't have a choice when he told me," Logan replied softly. "He never had a choice."

"Sure he did." Kurt looked up and met Logan's eyes now. "…he had the choice to run and leave you…but he didn't. He chose you. If he really truly wanted to…he could've run…and he could have done it way before any of this happened. It's not his fault either…he didn't know what would happen next. But we all made our own choices." He looked to the windows as well. "Like everyone else in the world. I chose to not talk either. I chose to help him. I may not have chosen to be up in that place, but I didn't want to leave any of you up there either. …And now we have to take what we've got with our choices and make the best of it."

There was a pause, where it became so quiet that Kurt could hear the PA system of the hospital call for some doctor far away. Logan closed his hand over Kurt's, and his voice sounded so still. "…I'm sorry we got you into this. I have a feeling this wasn't exactly what you signed up for when you walked into Dalton Academy."

"Oh, I was warned," Kurt smiled faintly. Their hands together felt a little awkward, and though he squeezed it back slightly, he curled up, hugging his knees. "I was warned plenty that I was headed into something crazy." He paused and then let out his breath. "But I don't think I'd look back and say I'd do anything differently."

Logan stared at Kurt, the boy he had loved for quite a while, and wondered why he felt so tormented to remember that fact. He had told himself he would let go, and for a while, that worked less effectively than he'd wanted. It was hard not to love him, and yet to think about the fact right now was just as difficult; it made him feel guilty. Kurt couldn't be his, and it looked as though these were the same things that had gone through someone else's mind for three years.

The thought of _that _was the most jarring.

He sighed and looked back outside. "I don't know if I could say the same. …not right now."

Kurt got up carefully, minding his leg. Logan noted the injury and got up to help him but Kurt stood by himself, brushing his pants and sleeves off carefully. He raised his eyebrows at Logan as he handed him a handkerchief. "Here," Kurt told him, shaking the handkerchief. "Clean up a little. You didn't want to cry in front of him, so I'm assuming you want to be presentable for him too. Go on."

He said it so primly that Logan managed a small smile and took it. And when Kurt was satisfied that Logan had regained composure, the two of them headed back to Julian's room. The nurse who'd followed them was at the station they passed, and she followed them with her gaze until they had gone.

The walk back to the ward was quiet, until they ran into the same busy woman that Kurt had met. She looked up when she saw them. "I thought you'd left. Where did you two go?"

"There was a phone call—"

"I needed some coffee—"

They both spoke at the same time and looked at each other. The woman raised an eyebrow. Logan rolled his eyes. "Just—whatever, Carmen. We're headed back to the room."

"No no, wait, you can't go in there right now," she said, following them quickly, especially when Logan ignored her. Kurt felt a more normal attitude from Logan at this point and wondered if it was safe for him to be opposed. When anguish drained out, Logan had room for his temper again. Hardly promising.

"Why, is Mrs. Larson here?" Kurt asked, not wanting a showdown with the diva's mother.

"No—there're other people in there right now. His friends."

"More of us?" Kurt stared. "You mean from Stuart House?"

"Julian doesn't really have "friends" among his classmates," Logan pointed out.

"He does," Carmen replied tartly. "And…uh…not those classmates."

Logan stopped at the door and realized what she was getting at before Kurt did. He glanced at her. "Who's already in there?"

"All of them."

_All of them…_? Kurt wondered.

When Carmen said "all of them," she really meant it. When Logan, without heeding Carmen's entreaties, opened the door, it was hard to mistake any of them since the entertainment industry had made so much of them, and Julian, from their famous TV show.

When he walked into that door, he was met with a bleary, travel-tired expression from Alicia Thornton, a blank look from Marcie Lillian, a blazing expression of annoyance from Patrick Wilson, the grave countenance of Nathan Miller, the caught-in-the-act-of-nail-biting wide eyes of Isabel Montero, an eyeroll from Natasha Saunders, the incredulous expression from Cameron Pike, and the truly exhausted look from Clark Sawyer.

All of them. The main cast of that TV show, Something Damaged.

In Julian's room.

Kurt had the most inappropriate desire to laugh. It was like walking straight into a scene from the show. He was half-torn with the desire to laugh in amazement or the need to choke it down, indignant—because if everybody was trying to keep attention at a minimum, this had to be the single worst way of doing it.

He didn't think they'd be here. It was the strangest thing he'd ever seen, juxtaposed with the gravity of the whole event. And there it was, a room packed with celebrities likely to have Julian's own disposition, and now he and Logan added to the mix. It was sure to create disturbance in the force.

"Who are you?" Patrick asked, eyes narrowing slightly.

"I told you," Clark leapt to his feet. He knew them, of course, and moved to them. He smiled at Kurt, nodding to him. "They're his friends and classmates."

"You're the one who sent the hedgehog?" Marcie asked, gesturing to the critter in the cage by the bed.

"I thought he'd want him." Logan replied coldly. "It's his pet."

"We know," Nathan smiled faintly. "We were the ones who got it for him."

So they were Julian's friends from Tinsel Town. They all looked older than him. Kurt raised an eyebrow. From the looks they all gave him and Logan, it would appear that Julian's two sets of friends had never actually clashed until today.

"I thought this room was to be closed off for a bit?" Natasha remarked, looking the two Dalton boys over, her air that of someone who felt as though she owned the place. "We'd like some time alone with him."

Logan closed the door carefully but firmly behind Kurt without otherwise moving, and he moved in front of Kurt in a protective stance while standing before the group of celebrities. All the danger signs were showing. "No. We're not leaving."

Cameron now lifted his head to meet Logan's eyes. When he stood, Kurt stepped forward to stand next to Logan, in case Logan needed stopping—he doubted Logan would hesitate to lunge at people he considered "intruders", movie star or not.

But the leading man only stated, "And you're the one who brought the keyboard." He gestured to the keyboard at the side of the room, where they had pushed it back.

Green eyes flashed as a temper rose. "Yes, I decided I'd try to get through to him with music. Something he actually likes. It must be better than inane Hollywood chatter that you're surrounding him with."

Everyone moved the next instant; most of the male hands grabbed onto Patrick, who had immediately stepped forward, as though sure he was going to fly.

"Wait—wait!" Nathan hissed at him. Patrick glanced back at him and shrugged both him and Cameron off before he stalked to the corner of the room. Everyone exhaled. Nathan looked up to the boys at the door, and managed a small, tight smile.

"It's fine if we're all here," he told him, ignoring the dark, wordless look Cameron shot him.

So there was no love lost between either of the families, either. Kurt wasn't surprised. But he did say, "We didn't expect to find you all here either. I think the room's at critical mass."

"We're J's friends…" Isabel said absently. She was extremely pretty and without all the makeup, she looked younger. "He's like our baby brother. Not that he needs a lot of it, but we look after him."

The snort from Logan made Kurt want to kick him—he was obviously spoiling for a reason to throw the divas out and he wasn't shy about it. "Really," Logan's sneer made Kurt despair for peace. "Somehow I doubt you even knew what was going on for him back here in school."

"J doesn't even _like_ that school," Patrick snapped, his temper also rising. He wasn't shy either; while the others simmered in their distress for their co-star, Patrick was looking for an outlet. "He never talks about it and never answers our questions about it. He looks pale and worried when he gets texts from you!"

Alicia leaned back and ate a potato chip, enjoying the proceedings in silence. She offered the bag to Kurt, who shook his head.

"He doesn't seem to enjoy your company either, since we've barely heard of you back here," Logan retorted. "How are any of you good for him? Every time he comes back, he looks tired and wasted."

Patrick jumped up. "Yeah? Then why is _his mother_ sending him back to California _with us_ the moment she found out that there's a chance he could be transferred out?"

_That _stalled the party.

"What?" Kurt stood.

Nathan closed his eyes, clearly willing some kind of self-control into the room. He opened them to look at Logan. "J's no longer considered critical and he's out of ICU. Dolce's getting her doctors in California to look after him. He's being taken out of here."

Clark looked unbelievably guilty when he added, "She understands it's risky even so, especially while he's unconscious…but she doesn't…want him here. Not anymore. And since J doesn't have a say in it…"

Kurt paled at the news. That ruined everything. Completely. Logan wasn't going to get the chance to fix anything and they would all simply lose the "Cheshire Cat"…. And if that happened, there's no telling how Logan would deal with the aftermath. He knew that even the Windsors, especially the ones who had been in the mess of it all, didn't want to see that happen, regardless of what they thought about Logan or Julian.

"You can't _do_ that!" Logan's voice rose.

"Why not?" Cameron looked at him. His tone was even and did not accuse. He looked as though he genuinely wanted to know. "He'd get excellent care there. We can make sure he's protected. So this kind of thing doesn't happen again."

Logan opened his mouth but no sound came out. He looked at Kurt, and then back at the others. "You can't just _take_ him!"

"And if it _is_ dangerous if he's unconscious, you can't take that chance!" Kurt protested. He remembered when his father had been unconscious and how fragile the situation was. He wouldn't even have moved him to another _room_.

The group of Hollywood royals looked at each other. They all had this air around them very reminiscent of Julian's own. Cameron shook his head. "It wasn't our decision. It was his mother's. But if he's safer there…we want him there. What happened here—"

"Was an unfortunate incident," Kurt snapped, frowning. "Something none of us had any control over."

"Exactly," Natasha replied as she rose, looking tall, blonde and perfect. Out of all of them, she was the diva second to Julian. "You had absolutely no control. You can't protect J from these situations because you've never had them. But where _we _stay, we deal with this kind of thing every day. We've protected both Pat and Izzy before. And now we'll take care of J. In the way you…apparently can't."

Cameron and Clark shot her a disapproving look nevertheless. An angry sound was rising from Logan when Carmen peeked into the room abruptly. "Dolce's on her way back."

"Tell her we'd like to speak to her about moving him," Cameron replied immediately. He looked at Logan and Kurt, "We'll stall her. Give you more time." He then looked at the others. "Let's go. Let's give these two time with J. …it might be the last."

The group sighed and got up. One by one, they patted Julian's hand and left. Nathan picked up the hedgehog cage when he left with them. When they passed, they did not look at Kurt or Logan, carefully avoiding them, as though they had something they didn't want to catch. Irritated, Kurt reached out and gingerly took the hedgehog cage from Nathan, who smirked a little and let it go. Kurt couldn't think of a single reason why he just did that, but he placed the hedgehog back next onto the table.

It was kind Clark, who knew them through Reed, who really stopped, looking apologetic. "I'm sorry. I really am. I want him all right too, and I know he'll be sad to be away from you all. If…if I could help it, I'd let him stay. Honestly. But…maybe it's safer this way for everyone."

And he too left.

Logan stood until the door closed. And then he let out his breath and sat heavily onto the chair, burying his face into his hands. For a moment, Kurt thought he was going to cry again, but he didn't. He was simply trying to control himself against the tide of the frustration that wracked him.

Kurt sat next to him and shook his head. External forces were deciding for them now. They were like little castles under siege. Everything else was going to break in and break them apart, because they had a chink in their armors that weakened their defenses. And before they even had the chance to regroup, everything was being swallowed up by the tide.

"So it looks like…" Logan laughed hollowly, suddenly into the silence, "…he _does_ have friends who care. It must've been easier for him to be there."

"Logan." Kurt glared at him in warning.

"Friends who would fly in from across the country to check up on him in spite of crazy schedules and media risks…"

"_Logan_!"

"And apparently they can tell when something upsets him!" Logan looked at Kurt now. "Something I apparently had been blind to for three years. Do you know, Kurt, that I've sat up at night this past week actually _wondering_ what that must've felt like? Because I can inflict some serious pain, but I can't _imagine_ what kind of hurt _that_ must've been like."

Kurt lowered his head for a minute, taking a deep breath to get his thoughts together. And then he met Logan's eyes again. "No, you're right. I can't tell you what that must be like. No one knows what that's like except him."

Logan blinked at him. Kurt stared at him and said, "…but I think you getting hurt like _this_ was the last thing he wanted all this time." He made Logan look directly at him so he could understand the brunt of his words. "When he told you everything, he wanted you to run. To turn around and run and forget. It was an impossible thing to ask, but he wanted it because he didn't want to cause you this kind of pain. …it means he doesn't blame you for any of it. He never did. …So don't inflict it on yourself."

Kurt glanced away for a moment. "People think…that many times other people hurt us. And that's…true. People really know how to hit a weak spot. …but we have to look out against hurting ourselves too. You can't live like this, Logan. You did to yourself for what—a week? And now that he's going, do you really want to leave him with the thought that all he's given you after all this was hurt? Really? _Really_?"

He sat back again and stared hard at the figure on the bed, willing him to wake up. If he could just _wake up_…maybe something different would happen.

"Three years…" Logan whispered, "…of not noticing…." The tall boy heaved out a sigh. "He told me loved me, Kurt. One of my best friends of three years…and I never even knew…" He looked at the ceiling as though furiously trying to keep the tears from falling.

"How do you…" He stifled a bitter sob. "…How do you even begin to process something like that…? Did he…did he just feel this way the all the time?"

This brought a new thought. Kurt hesitated before he decided to just ask. "I wanted to ask you something, you know. You said that you realize now that he'd been helping you all this time. Helping you to get to the people you wanted to love. And that you just noticed now that he maybe had tried to give you signs of how he felt. But…" he gave him an intent look, "…did you _really_ not notice him…? Are you _sure_ you had absolutely no idea?"

The expression Logan gave him surprised Kurt. He looked almost afraid, as though that question was the one he hadn't wanted to be asked—it opened the door to someplace he cannot go. Kurt gave him a questioning expression, hoping very _very _hard that he had an explanation for that fear.

"It…it wasn't that." Logan stammered, staring at him. "No, it's not like that. I really didn't know. It'd just…I never…let myself go there."

"Go where?"

"…To think of him like that." Logan swallowed. "Like…he and I…would be anything. He and I…_at all_."

"Why?" Kurt asked, a little disbelieving. "You really just wanted to be platonic?" He certainly didn't expect Logan to jump every good-looking male boy he saw—it was just that _this_ one was clearly someone who was very dear to him, for a steady three years and counting, someone who he was willing to face down psychos for, and to be stuck in a burning building with. And Kurt thought, without vanity, considering Logan fell for him when he knew nothing about him, in a single song, it was surprising that he'd never even _considered_ the slightest possibility of being with Julian in any way other than platonic.

"I…" Logan tried to explain, but it sounded as though he was telling himself more than anything. As though he had just realized it himself. "…Julian was…you know, he doesn't play for our team. That's what everyone knew, that was what I knew. So I put him aside for a while at first and…and when we started to get close…him, Derek and I…when we started to become really close friends… I didn't want to lose that. Kurt, you know what my life at home is like. …I was only really happy when I was with D and Jules. Everyone came and went but they didn't. …But if I'd tried anything…_anything_…that'd break that thing we had…like thinking of one of them like that," he shook his head. "I just never let myself go there. It…must've been a long time ago since I decided that then but…I just never. I couldn't. It meant too much to."

Kurt found himself smiling faintly. As he eased back into the couch, he asked, "…and now?"

"I don't know." Logan shook his head. He braced his arms onto his knees as he leaned forward, staring at the keyboard in front of the couch. "…I don't know. I really wish I did."

There was an instant of silence.

_He said that…in music, we could take out everything we felt…_

Mr. Harvey's words that Blaine had told him filtered through Kurt's thoughts. Maybe it wasn't the answer…but it makes you think. Kurt turned to Logan and said, "…so you came here to sing to him."

"Yeah…?"

Kurt tugged the keyboard closer to them. "Then we'll sing. I'll sing with you a little and play… you stand over there and sing to him." Logan gaped him as he adjusted the keyboard settings, and Kurt glanced at him, giving him a raised eyebrow. "I will only do this kind of thing for Blaine, and you, so do not waste the effort. Go on. Stand there. That _is_ what you're here for?"

There wasn't much Logan could do. "Wait…what did you want me to sing?"

"That's yours to answer…" Kurt replied in an unimpressed tone as he continued setting. "You're the one serenading him back to life, Prince Charming. I'm just singing with you."

"Very funny." The blond paused for a moment, cogitating uncomfortably as he looked torn between the boy he loved and the boy who loved him. "…well…there was something I thought I might…" He hesitated. "I mean…I don't know if it's something appropriate but I just felt…"

This was all very amusing to Kurt who had not quite seen Logan looking so defensive before. "Go on."

Logan named it. Kurt resisted a smile and so he kept his gaze onto the keyboard. He'd heard a piano arrangement of that song before, and began to play the melody. Logan nodded. Kurt resumed playing and gave him a prompting look.

And now Logan turned to the boy on the bed. He let out his breath.

_Please…_ he begged in the silence. _Listen to me for a minute…. _And he began to sing.

_I don't know where I'm at;_

_I'm standing at the back and I'm tired of waiting…_

Kurt smiled as Logan walked a little closer to the bed, eyes never leaving his friend on it. He moved until he was right up to the bed.

_Waiting here in line, hoping that I'll find what I've been chasing…_

Kurt continued to carefully play as he lifted his own voice to join Logan's in the song, creating a harmony that brought the attention of certain people standing outside the room, who moved up to the door to listen.

_I shot for the sky; I'm stuck on the ground_

_So why do I try, I know I'm gonna to fall down…_

_I thought I could fly, so why did I drown?_

_Never know why it's coming down, down, down…_

As they sang, there was a rustle at the doorway. Kurt's eyes locked onto two Dalton blazers and two red pins. Derek stood at the doorway, observing the temperament of the room. His eyes fell on Julian, and his face fell slightly. And then he lifted his gaze to Logan, and the briefest flicker of a smile appeared. He walked in without a word. Bailey was the other Stuart present, but he stood at the door. Kurt nodded to him, a little puzzled by his presence.

Logan barely noticed reached out to put his hand over the pale one on the bed. His voice rose in the way Kurt knew so well—when he meant what he sang, when he felt through the song.

_Not ready to let go, 'cause then I'd never know what I could be missing…_

_But I'm missing way too much;_

_So when do I give up what I've been wishing for…_

Bailey stayed by the door, listening to the song. Behind him, some of Julian's friends from LA peeked in, listening and watching. Clark, the most musically inclined of them, stepped in, looking amazed. Kurt and Logan's voices joined in harmony as the song reached its peak.

_I shot for the sky; I'm stuck on the ground_

_So why do I try, I know I'm gonna to fall down…_

_I thought I could fly, so why did I drown?_

_Never know why it's coming down, down, down…_

Derek sat next to Kurt and watched Logan sing, looking as though he were trying to figure out what was going on in his friend's mind. Kurt imagined that there might not have been many instances when this happened for Derek. From his vantage point at the door, Bailey began to smile almost sadly. Logan kept a hold on the hand on the bed and he closed his eyes and Kurt supported his voice with his own.

_Oh I am going down, down, down_

_Can't find another way around_

_And I don't want to hear the sound, of losing what I never found…_

Logan's voice was the only one that remained, as the last strains of the song hung in the air.

Logan leaned over the boy on the bed, his hand still over his, various expressions warring on his face. And in the silence, Kurt heard him whisper, "Wake up. Wake up, Julian. …please wake up."

Kurt sighed and lowered his eyes. When Burt had been unconscious in the hospital following his heart attack…he didn't know what to do. With every fiber of his being, he wished his father would wake and look at him and tell him he was all right. Just to hear him speak again, or move, or just to squeeze his hand. Even the smallest gesture mattered at this point. When you're all each other has, every infinitesimal instant was worth waiting for with everything you had.

Even before Logan moved his gaze away, Bailey lowered his eyes sadly and shook his head when, inevitably, there was simply no response from the school celebrity. Cameron and Marcie, standing in view at the door, gave each other thoughtful expressions. For a moment, Cameron smiled as he turned away. "He seems like in good hands here for the time being. Even Dolce would realize that…"

"Mm…." Nathan murmured from nearby, checking his phone and smiling at a text from his girlfriend. He returned his gaze to Cameron and replied, "…He doesn't talk about them but…I see why he keeps coming back."

Clark turned his attention to Kurt, his stepbrother's best friend, and grinned, whispering, "I knew you guys had Warblers who could really sing…but I missed the memo on how great you guys sing even impromptu, just like this."

Kurt only shrugged demurely, but the praise clearly pleased him. Clark whispered with a smile before he rose to leave, "Thanks for looking after my brother, Kurt—and my friend."

"They're a handful…" Kurt replied softly with a small smile in return. His eyes drifted to his schoolmate on the bed and wondered if it would get through to him.

As the actors left them to their silence, it was Derek who finally got up and pulled his friend back a little. Logan relaxed slightly at his friend's gesture and allowed himself to get tugged down to sit in the couch with the rest of them. And then Derek hugged him, bewildering Kurt and Bailey.

Logan somehow managed to smile slightly, but he rolled his eyes. "…Derek, you're not allowed to hug me."

"Shut up, idiot, I'm trying to make you and me feel better," Derek grumbled.

"It feels awkward, _stop_." Logan grimaced, squirming away from his friend's grip, which made the athlete huffy, and punched him in the arm with just nearly enough force to bruise.

"Fine, see if I ever try to cheer you up again."

"This from you who was holding onto me and sobbing to the point that nurses wanted to give sedatives?" Kurt raised an eyebrow at Logan. "Let him hug you, I think you need it."

"Like I have a choice?" Logan grumbled in answer as Derek gave him a few pats that felt more like whacks on his back.

"…Logan?" Bailey finally looked up, fidgeting uncomfortably, not quite leaving the doorway.

The Stuart prefect raised his eyes to him. Bailey was very carefully holding out a CD. He seemed to truly be torn about what he was about to do, hesitating, but he still felt as though it was the best course of action. "…It's not mine to give…. But I…I thought…you might…want to listen to it."

For the longest time, Logan just stared. Kurt glanced at him and then got up. He walked to Bailey and took the CD from him. In Bailey's neat handwriting, it said, "_Valentines Fair: Julian – Beautiful_."

For a long moment, Logan stared at the CD, not really sure of what he was looking at. He looked up at Kurt, who was raising an eyebrow at him. He waved the CD. "Go on and take it."

"…It's not mine," Logan murmured, eyeing the name on it.

"Bailey wouldn't be giving this to you for no reason."

"Can you…" Bailey added hesitantly, "…listen to that when you're by yourself? I just… When that was recorded, I… it felt a little private."

"I don't understand," Logan frowned as he glanced to Bailey, who just shook his head again. "You'll know when you listen to it. I just…I've never heard him sing like that before."

"Is this…" Kurt turned elegantly on his heel to look at the Stuart at the doorway, repressing a questioning smile that was starting to rise from his lips, "Is this one of the things you recorded during the Valentines Fair? In your booth?"

"Yes." Bailey smiled a little uncomfortably.

"But it wasn't broadcast, he just…sang?" Derek asked, looking surprised.

"It was after most of the fair was being taken down…. It sounded like a secret."

"Did he know you recorded it?" Logan suddenly asked, expression darkening.

Bailey looked unsettled and guilty. "No." He hastily glanced towards the boy on the bed, and then to Logan, who looked very tense at the purported intrusion. "He…" a tentative expression on his face, "…He didn't really seem to care _what_ I did…he just had to let it out."

There was a pause as Kurt looked down at the generic little CD with the sharpie marker label, but an instant later, it was gone from his hand and it was in Logan's. He put it away so quickly that it looked as though it were burning him. "Fine, I'll…I'll just keep it. Thanks." He trained his eyes to Kurt now, and he rose to go to him. "Will you be—I mean…are you staying…? Until they kick us all out, I mean?"

Kurt gauged the look on Logan's face at the moment. It wasn't a desperate attempt to get him to stay, but he looked as though he would _really _prefer him to do so. Derek sat behind Logan, and clearly he wasn't going to be unappreciated while their third friend was not conscious. It was just that Kurt felt strange being in the room while the idea of Logan and Julian had yet to resolve itself. And as much as he wanted to also make sure that the actor who was with them on the third floor would be all right, he figured time might be better spent on Logan if he was left to sort things out first.

The whole time they had been together today, Logan didn't seem to know which way to look, and he had fallen apart. If Kurt stayed, he would just get more confused. Two things would clash: The fact that it was he that Logan loved and chased for nearly as long as Kurt had been in Dalton, and perhaps Logan still did feel something for him….

…And the other fact would be that that clearly, Julian had changed the game with his forced confession, and Logan didn't know how to feel about it. And that every time he even thought about it, he still didn't know what he was doing.

That was a lot to digest, with a best friend still unconscious.

Kurt began to reply, but he heard his phone go off. No rest for the weary. He sighed and pulled it out, and saw that it was from his father:

"_You all right in there?"_

He let out his breath and tucked the phone back into his uniform. His eyes met Logan's, which looked expectant, and Kurt put a hand on his arm. "I have to go."

Logan released the breath he was holding and nodded. His hands dropped to his sides. "Yeah, I guess…I guess that Blaine must be looking for you by now."

Kurt shook his head. "No…. It's my dad. He has to take me back to Dalton and pack up."

Confused, Logan looked up. "Pack up?"

Perplexed, Kurt wondered if none of the Stuarts had talked about this at all. And then he realized that both Derek and Logan had been away from the school all this time—they might not be fully aware of what was going on. Inwardly, he wondered if Senator Wright had even mentioned it to him.

"Mr. Brightman told us that we were to begin packing tonight," Kurt replied. "They're…closing the school so…all our stuff has to be out by tomorrow morning. And then they're closing it down. Everyone's already headed there."

"What, like _right now_?" Derek sat up. "They're kicking us all out right now?"

"Board meeting's this evening," Kurt replied. "We don't have any time but now."

"They can't close our school!" Logan exploded, making Kurt check him with a disapproving stare. His voice dropped only a few decibels. "Who said—"

"The board _and_ the alumni are talking about this tonight, or that's what Mr. Brightman told us," Kurt snapped. "Be quiet!"

"My father never—" Logan caught his breath, wide-eyed at him and he whirled around to look at Derek. "Did you—?!"

"My father didn't say anything either," Derek got to his feet, frowning. "And he wouldn't close the school! He said he _liked_ this school back when he went!"

Legacies, Kurt remembered. Both Logan and Derek were. But then, so were the Brightmans, and it was their father who seemed to be spearheading this whole matter. Even David's father had the same inclination, although Kurt also heard that Drew's father wasn't quite as thrilled either.

"How can they do this?" Logan murmured, aghast. "What will happen to all of us?! I'm not going back to New York to be with _him_ full time!" He gestured to some vague direction of where the Senator was presumably at.

"I guess we all…end up scattering…" Bailey murmured. Unlike them, he seemed well-informed. "It's all over." He sighed deeply, staring at the ceiling. He almost looked as though he was expecting this kind of catastrophe and was resigned to it.

There was a pause amongst the boys, and, Kurt glanced to the boy on the bed, who never stirred. And he whispered, "…I guess even if we wanted him to stay…there's nowhere to be."

The thought was entirely unwelcome for everyone in the room. A flash of color soared into Logan's face as he glanced towards Julian, and then back at Kurt with a frown. He put a hand on his shoulder. "No. There'll be a place. For all of us." He looked at Bailey and Derek. "Come on, we're going back to Dalton."

"What are we—"

"We can do what they want for now, but I'm calling my father or Michelle to see what the hell is actually going on here." Logan replied as he began taking down the keyboard. "They can't just close down the school."

Kurt smiled as he watched him for a moment, before he himself rose to his feet and headed for the door. If there was one thing John Logan Wright III was known for, it was his incredible stubbornness. And Kurt had no doubt that he was going to do exactly as he claimed. For now, he had to see to his own responsibilities back in the dorm full of despondent schoolmates packing their school life away.

Kurt was at the door when he happened to glance back, and he saw something he wondered if he ought not to have seen:

Logan's tall form was bending over the hospital bed, blond hair falling onto the face of the still form lying amidst all the apparatus. No one in the room moved, though they stared. Logan remained that way, his eyes fluttered shut as he leaned his forehead on the boy's—the boy that no one in Dalton had laid eyes upon since the night of the fire.

"…wake up, Julian…" Logan whispered without opening his eyes. "…please wake up."

Kurt watched him for a half moment long before he tore his gaze away and he fled the room, his heart pounding. He wasn't sure if he wanted to wait and see if Julian would open his eyes to respond to that quiet pleading—that strange intimate tone that Kurt was certain he had never heard from Logan before.

He had heard Logan plead to him, had heard him ask him to stay, ask to be loved by him, ask to be a friend. But that tone, the one he strangely _felt_ more than heard, was different.

He wondered if the emotion in that voice was what melted Blaine and compelled Joshua. And Kurt wondered vaguely—in certain areas of thought within his mind that he didn't want to stray too far into—what _he_ would do if it had been directed at him.

He assumed, as he rushed past the caucus of celebrities in the hallways who wondered where he was off to in such a hurry, that Julian would wake up.

* * *

_Five Days Later…_

* * *

The room looked old. It was full of carved paneling and antique bookcases containing files and the secretary seemed extremely busy, handling the madness that had gone on. Kurt tore his gaze away from the horrifying amount of paperwork she was doing—realizing at the same time that while everything _had _seemed alright following that ridiculous stunt of theirs, other people had to catch the rest of the work—

Kurt had never been in there before, but he was fairly certain that so many of the other boys have done so. It was likely that the scuff on the floor past the double doors were made by the doors swinging open to receive one student after another; most likely Windsors who needed some extra-strength haranguing from the man whose office had double doors that had the intimidating plaque reading "Headmaster Winters".

The doors opened. Reed stepped out, looking flushed. He kept his head ducked down, fingers anxiously running through the curls in his hair, but he smiled at them. He nodded to Kurt, before he left the office altogether, the others' gazes following him.

While Kurt was generally considered to be a "behaved" student, he had been to Dean Ramsey's enough times to make him wonder if Windsors had shared the rent in that place. However, he had never really met Headmaster Winters. In fact, he'd only seen the Headmaster in official occasions, and heard his voice over the PA system for formal announcements. He recalled glimpsing the headmaster's silver head bobbing in the crowd of the older people during the funeral of their late choirmaster, too. Other than that, it seemed like he was happy enough to remain in a vague authority figure, and in the school, he seemed to just let Ramsey run the show.

So he wasn't entirely sure what to expect, now that he was sitting there. After everything that had happened after he came back from the hospital, and that truly insane thing that he and his friends had done—

"Kurt Hummel?"

He quickly looked up, and he saw the secretary smile. The other boys sitting next to him, also waiting, looked at Kurt with wide eyes, wondering how he would fare. "Yes?"

"You can go inside now."

Kurt rose and crossed the opulent flooring towards the oak doors. He hesitated as he put his hand on the antique handle, wondering if this was really going to be alright. He tried to glance back at the other boys.

Blaine nodded, and his voice was steady, the way it had been when he spoke to Kurt five days ago at that fiasco that the boys had managed to conjure up. "It'll be alright. You always know what to say."

The smile was the same one that first welcomed him into the halls of this school. Kurt nodded, comforted by it, and he felt that familiar virtue—courage—return to him as he pushed the door open.

With the headmaster being a dark silhouette behind a wooden desk that looked like it was older than he himself was, Kurt used the time it took for his eyes to adjust to look around a moment. The shelves were full of books, and there were paintings of old men who were familiar to him by now, having seen them once before. Piled in a stack, next to the headmaster's still-moving pen as he wrote, were bound records books, that Kurt was, by now, also familiar with.

"Please sit down right there, Mr. Hummel," the headmaster spoke, his hand gesturing to the single chair before the desk. A little handycam on a stand was facing the chair.

As though he knew without even having to look up, that Kurt was staring at the camera, he said, "Don't mind the camera. It's merely for documentation." The sound of the fountain pen stopped with a flourish. The Headmaster closed the book he was writing in, and rose. When he walked closer and away from the harsh outside light, Kurt was able to see him better.

As he sat down at the lone chair, he saw that Headmaster Winters was a stately man with silvery hair, who looked as though he was well into his forties. For someone in such an opulent office, his suit merely looked neat, and comfortable, and Kurt was amused to find that its colors seemed to slightly echo the overall banner-colors of red and blue that the Dalton boys' uniforms had. As the headmaster faced Kurt, he noticed that he was tall enough to sit on his desk with shoes still touching the ground.

"Alright, Mr. Hummel." When the Headmaster smiled, his face crinkled in a comforting way. His whole demeanor made it clear—he had been a Dalton boy too. "We'll take as much time as you might need but I want you to tell me whatever comes to mind. There's no need to be formal about it. Just give me your answer to the question."

"The question?" Kurt sat as still as he could on the chair.

"Yes, of course, the reason we're all still here." Headmaster Winters smiled. "So…"

* * *

"_Why do you want to be in this school?"_

_Kurt's image on the camera looked as though he was carefully considering that answer. But when he looked up, his eyes were clear of doubt._

"_To be honest…"_

* * *

_Five days ago._

"You guys didn't get _anything_ done," Kurt protested in frustration.

The group of boys that littered the area looked up as though deer caught in headlights and shot him slightly embarrassed looks, but they altogether carried on with their enjoyment.

When Kurt walked into Windsor for the first time since the fateful Parents' Night, he had fully expected that, by the hour Burt finally managed to drop him off at Dalton, the boys would've made some actual headway towards dismantling their frankly ostentatious rooms. Or perhaps at least packed their easily movable things.

The Twins' room alone housed an appalling collection of unnecessary things that included a nerf and paintball armory capable of shaming major hobby store outlets. They've proved, nevertheless, that the variety of things that they dragged into campus with them had _some_ use at least, as Kurt recalled the landing pad that had saved their lives.

But when Kurt entered Windsor, what he found was absolute pandemonium.

It was evident from the foyer alone. One step inside and Kurt found himself in a battlefield of possessions that evidently _no one_ owned, judging by the way everyone seemed to take no notice, walking over and around things like they weren't there. Suitcases lay popped open on the floor, sports equipment bounced down from the staircase, and there was snack food in trails heading to all directions. Textbooks covered in highlighter marks and doodles on the margins were all over the place, and notebooks were flopped facedown. The major pieces of furniture were not in their proper places—as though each nook and cranny was being ransacked for hidden treasures.

Not to mention the fact that Drew and Satoru's TARDIS was sitting in the hall surrounded by several stacks of computer paraphernalia that could only be Han's, along with several electric cars of the variety toddlers liked driving around in. A pile of paintball guns rested at the bottom of the staircase along with tubes of ammo, while the superhero costumes littered the steps themselves. And what looked like a huge, two-storey bounce castle was deflating painfully slowly from the outside, judging from what Kurt could see through the kitchen windows. The kitchen itself was bedlam, as though someone had tried to be helpful and got out cookie ingredients but simply ended up making a mess of the whole place.

And this was only the _first_ floor.

The boys had certainly been in the contemplative stages of packing, and may have even actually applied this contemplation, but as usual, they stopped halfway due to utter distraction.

"Oh! Oh!" Reed cried from the common room where most of the culprits were piled into. He was dragging something out of a trunk. "Look, remember this?" And when he unrolled it, Kurt was certain that at some point in time, Windsor House had taken a dog of the fluffy mop-like type, rolled it in every color of paint in the world and allowed it to run amok on canvas.

Wes melted. "Oooh, I remember that! Last year, for the Pet Day!"

The Windsors in the common room degenerated into nostalgic reminiscing about various pets brought in—and Wes went off into a truly distressing story about someone bringing half a dozen piglets onto the campus grounds and subsequently setting them loose in the halls during class, "…and that was _after _Dwight's snake got away!"

Kurt bristled at the complete lack of attention he was receiving; it was already getting dark, and there was little to no progress in Windsor's work whatsoever.

"Hello?!" he demanded.

At his tone, Blaine looked up from his laptop—he had commandeered the sofa and was surrounded by CDs and thumb drives—and grinned. "Kurt! Kurt, come here, look at this!" He flailed wildly to his boyfriend and gestured for him to come over.

The Windsor diva raised an eyebrow at the evidently thrilled expression in Blaine's face and went over to his side to take a look. David did the same, took one look at Blaine's screen, and burst out laughing.

"Look! It's last year's Parade!" he crowed through peals of laughter. The Windsors scrambled up next to them and Kurt looked at the screen to see the Windsors flailing around a massive reproduction of the Black Pearl from Pirates of the Caribbean. They were all dressed as pirates—there had to be at least three Jack Sparrows in that group—and they looked immensely proud.

The next photo reduced most of the boys behind Kurt into hysterical giggles—what looked to be a float made out into the shape of a big griffin was now a black lump of smoldering paper maché, and some very unhappy Stuarts were surrounding it.

"We were so proud!" Wes managed a teary sniffle.

"Of _that_?" Kurt raised an eyebrow.

"Of the fact that we managed it by using hay, a magnifying glass, and some very obliging sunbeams."

"I had nothing to do with that!" Dwight yelled. "I'm innocent!"

Kurt shook his head as he watched Blaine scroll through the pictures. There was one particularly brilliant one of a Science Fair experiment erupting into fireworks as Windsors ran from the blast zone.

There was another photo of what looked like a play cast entirely of Windsors, with Blaine, David, Wes, and a very unwilling-looking Han dressed as Musketeers, only the first three of them were giving Han a strange look as the other boy was holding a blue lightsaber.

And then there was one particularly noteworthy photo that seemed to have a huge flock of ducks—hundreds of them—coming down one of the school lanes and it was captioned, 'Second week, Junior Year: Charlie's first rage-fit of Prefecthood.'

"So this was all that I missed before I got here…"

"To be honest, after you got here, we were actually a little more 'tame'," Blaine winked at him.

"That, I'll believe," Charlie snorted as he came in. Kurt looked up, relieved, wondering if their prefect was about to get them all moving, but to his surprise, even Charlie was not carrying luggage. He even went and booted some of the boys off the couch so he could sit with them. He was holding a thick sheaf of ring-bound paper, but said nothing about it; he merely looked at the photos. "You through all that stuff yet, Blaine?"

"Not yet," Blaine replied with a smile, and he looked at Kurt with a grin. "I'm helping Han do a data check on all these CDs and thumb drives we found lying around the house. Didn't want to throw them all out without figuring out if there was anything in them worth saving. And looks like there are."

Wes suddenly started cackling. "Hey, Chaz, here's that photo of you and Saint Justin the other upperclassmen dressed up like the Spice Gi—"

"GIVE ME THAT!" the memory stick was all but torn out of Blaine's laptop and the boys howled, trying to tackle Charlie to submission and recover that priceless piece of blackmail.

Over the din, Kurt narrowed his eyes and asked his boyfriend, "And Han couldn't have done all this…why?"

"Han's busy trying to take down and pack up his room," Blaine replied absently, clicking through some pictures of Dwight's latest birthday party. Kurt tried to not smile when he caught sight of a blurry photo of his stepbrother tossing Derek off. "I figured I could help do this, I mean you've seen what his insane room looks like…"

"I guess we all just got a little distracted," Reed piped up, looking a little embarrassed. Shane was curled up close to him on the floor, evidently making a valiant attempt to help—and failing spectacularly. He was watching, amused, as Charlie roared and stomped around the common room, with three or four boys hanging off him, still trying to fight him down. "When we started trying to pack, we came across all this stuff that we had lying around and we started remembering."

Kurt smiled faintly. He supposed that it was inevitable. The Windsor boys did live in this house, generations and generations of them, and they packed it with memories from the ground up. Now that they had to take it all down, they were bound to run into some old moments in the nooks and crannies.

Then the Twins burst into the common room, dragging out a Rock Band set that looked as though it had endured nuclear war. The conspirators crowed and leaped out of their seats, running to it and all talking at the same time.

Kurt shook his head and looked to Dwight, who, apart from his last outburst, was keeping quiet at the bay window again, and digging through a suitcase and laying out books of the type that looked like they'd be props for a Harry Potter movie. "I thought we were supposed to be packing up, not taking them out?"

"I don't know what these are," Dwight replied as he kept dusting off covers. "But I found them in the attic."

Kurt raised eyebrow at him. "And what, pray tell, were you doing in the attic?"

To which Dwight colored slightly and retorted, "I can't keep _all _my important instruments in my room, I need some kind of panic room!"

"You used the _attic_ as a Hunter's panic room?"

He was ignored by the self-proclaimed spiritualist by now. Blaine sat next to Kurt again with a smile. "How did the hospital trip go? Any news?"

"His manager let us see him." Kurt sighed and shook his head. "But I think Logan and Derek didn't know about us being told to pack our stuff."

Blaine nodded and glanced out the windows, to the direction of the other houses. In the far distance was Stuart House, and there was very little movement to be seen. Blaine was a little surprised at that—Stuarts took pride in being efficient, but he supposed that not even they were willing to detach from their House as much as any of the other boys in school. There was no sign of Logan or Derek. And far off in Hanover House, Blaine was sure they were also being quiet.

Distantly, towards South and Main, a small trickle of Day students were already appearing, carrying bags stuffed with books. It must be even worse for them, who had always tried to keep out of trouble compared to the Boarding boys who looked for it openly—they were collateral damage. Unlike the boarders, they had far less to pack and bring home. But there were so few of them really _moving _anything. They sat around the benches with their bags and were talking, most of them.

Almost as if no one really wanted to leave the school if they could help it. Or as if they didn't know where else to go, or stay, but here.

It brought a thought to Blaine.

"…Did you tell your dad about what New Directions said?"

"I mentioned it to my dad before we left." Kurt sighed, setting down a photo of the Warblers at Sectionals. "He seemed to think that no matter what happens to the school, it was a good idea. I guess he's still pretty worked up about the incident."

"I don't really blame him…" Wes muttered from where he sat back down on the carpet, looking through what looked like old term papers. "My dad insisted on having some of his people patrol the school while we're gathering our stuff."

"That's a little overkill, I think…" Reed blinked, packing up art projects and pricking himself with a thumbtack. "Agh!" he glowered at it, mumbling to himself, before he added aloud, "Even my mom said it was okay if it's just to pack up everything. I mean the movers won't be arriving until tomorrow to help us all cart away the heavy things…"

"My dad is not the best person to define what 'overkill' is and isn't when it comes to his kids. He has two settings: off and full-auto." Wes rolled his eyes. "Well, I managed to talk him off it. But I think maybe one or two bully boys are out there incognito."

"You're a mob-lord-to-be," David reminded him pointedly, and patiently. "Isn't this normal for you?"

"We are _not _mobsters. …Technically. …Or full-time. Aaaargh—" Wes flopped over in surrender, even though he seemed relatively pleased that his friends have not decided to start clearing away from him thanks to his family's…business. "I just want to finish high school and college and run the restaurant chain."

"How's your mom, Dwight?" Shane asked, peering at the boy his age, who was now reclined at the end of his seat and staring out the window. The pale boy, who had seemed to steadily regain his composure following the conversation with Mr. Brightman at the funeral, was staring out the windows.

After a pause, Dwight shook his head. "I think for the most part, my mom was just glad that I was alright. She didn't even say anything about taking my salt or…my stuff." He picked at the upholstery of the seat, looking a little distant. His eyes were still red, but he did look more like his usual self than they have seen him in the past few days. "That was always a good sign…"

David patted him heavily in the back and tugged him down to sit on the floor, sending the younger boy sprawling against him and Wes, rumpling the dark hair. "Well that's good news at least…" The hunter, irritated, struggled to untangle himself from the grip of the two upperclassmen, but his weak flailing was suppressed easily.

Kurt smiled faintly and his gaze fell to Blaine again. His boyfriend reached out and cupped his hand into his, and he could tell that Blaine had something on his mind, seeing as how his eyes looked at him so intently. "What is it?"

Blaine's smile looked strained. "…nothing."

"…it's not nothing when you look at me like that." Kurt raised an eyebrow, lips almost quirking into a smile. "The last time you looked at me like that…you thought I was going to choose Logan during New Year's."

"I was just…" Blaine forced a laugh, staring at him still. That laugh didn't reach his eyes, and Kurt knew that laugh: it was another one of Blaine's armor parts falling into place. "…I was just thinking that…I'm really tired of feeling like I'm about to be without you."

Kurt stared. After a beat, he turned fully to face Blaine and frowned slightly, squeezing his hands. "You're not going to lose me."

"I know…I know that, I just…have trouble with it because of…this." Blaine gestured absently in the air, looking at the world, weary of it.

He meant having trouble with everything that had ever happened. Kurt knew that for nearly the whole time that he and Blaine had been together, every external force of nature possible had been trying to drive a wedge between them for one reason or another. Even after they themselves overcame their own miscommunication, trouble just kept coming back. And after the fire, and with the school getting closed down…it looked like the world was about to succeed in pulling them apart.

"We were safe here…" Blaine murmured, glancing around the house. "_Supposed _to be safe here. I was…looking forward to moving past the Parents' Night event and maybe just enjoying the fact that I was in a school and singing with the boy I love and now…" Blaine closed his eyes.

The two lead singers leaned against each other. Kurt glanced at Blaine briefly and felt the thread of anxiety and distress through him.

Blaine let out his breath in a sigh. "…we were always safe when we were in here."

"Well…in a manner of speaking," Kurt replied with a small smile.

"What do you mean?"

Kurt ignored the sound of something toppling from upstairs and the eruption of laughter from boys on the second floor. "As far as safe goes, we're about as safe as the next baseball bat into a chemistry set." He smiled a bit more.

_POW!_

The entire floor shook, the sound of electric crackling was just an aftershock. Smoke came pouring out of the kitchen. No one batted an eye, some even laughed.

"We ought to thank Drew and Satoru," Kurt rolled his eyes as he reached up beside the couch and handed a fire extinguisher to Drew—"Thanks, Kurt!"—who ran off. "With all the stuff they've been blowing up all year, we weren't all that fazed anymore when we heard the explosions in the Art Hall."

Blaine laughed softly in agreement, sitting a little closer to Kurt. "Just in case, though, they said they'll dial it down during the move."

He looked around at the room again, to the boys who were still squabbling over the little items scattered around. He smiled as he watched Wes and David argue with the Twins over ownership of a bust that looked remarkably like Stan Lee, and added, "It's hard to believe that in a while, we'll actually live somewhere where things don't explode at random and we don't get raided by food and coffee cups."

Kurt laughed, shaking his head. "And whatever else, too. Who knows what kind of madness has been going on in this house before we even got here."

"Considering the way we are _now_…?" Blaine snorted a little, nodding towards the pile of boys howling on the carpet of the common room, pelting each other with nerf bullets. "How much worse could it have been?"

"It's less a boarding house and more like a daycare," Kurt remarked bluntly.

There was a pause, as the boys continued to talk and squabble around them. They sounded worlds away. When most of them ran out of the hall for a moment to get "the rest of the gear", and heaven knew what all that was, they sounded even further away.

Kurt felt Blaine's hand close over his. It felt warm, almost feverish. And he thought, as he leaned against him, he could feel Blaine's heart beating fast. He remembered how warm his hand had been in the hall, gripping his own to keep them from being separated, and how his heart beat this way. Blaine was scared.

"I don't know how to do this," he admitted.

"Change is always difficult," Kurt agreed.

"I know but…did it have to be _this _kind of change…?" Blaine sighed. "…I mean, this is family."

And Kurt knew exactly what that felt like. "…it gets easier."

Blaine closed his eyes, as though he didn't want to look at people pulling bright memories out of the walls and the furniture and the mayhem. "…When?"

Kurt let out his breath. He had asked that before—had been asking that for a long time…since the very beginning. "…When indeed."

After a moment, Blaine looked at Kurt properly, as though he was working through his own thoughts. "This really strange thought came to my head when we were up there, you know. It came at the…the _weirdest _time, I had you wrapped with the fire blanket and we were running down the halls and I was trying to find the best way through and I thought…did I tell you that I love you?"

Kurt stared at him. Blaine laughed, a little embarrassed, looking down at their hands. "It was the strangest thing. It just popped into my head. Had I told you I love you that day? Because…because I was right there dodging fiery debris and at any minute the ceiling could cave in or the floor could fall out—"

"Blaine—"

"—and all that time!" Blaine managed a laugh that almost sounded like a sob. He shook his head, embarrassed with himself now. "All that time, I just thought…if it were to happen in the _very next second…_would I have told you that I love you? Would I have been able to tell…my parents, my brother…? …were any of you going through all that knowing that I've loved to you all to the last moment?"

"Well _I_ knew."

Blaine stared. Kurt's mouth quirked into a small smile. "I knew. Of course I knew. You ran up a burning building and kicked a door in and got stabbed by that…that _lunatic_. Because you knew I was up there. And you didn't even want that fire blanket, you kept it around me. I mean…" he rolled his eyes, trying to sound offhand, "…as a rational human being, you had no reason to want to be anywhere in that hell."

"I'm not rational; I live in _Windsor_." A small smile threatened to quirk up Blaine's mouth as well.

"I knew that much, but speaking as a 'rational Windsor' myself…" Kurt smiled a little more, sighing as he closed his eyes. "…when I heard you call out my name in that fire, I thought it would've been fair to say that you came running in there for me. And that, well…is more than enough evidence of how you felt."

Kurt opened his eyes to see Blaine looking down at their linked hands, with an expression of quiet acceptance that, although not exactly one hundred percent, was enough to alleviate whatever shadows encroached in his mind that kept him from the smile Kurt knew so well. Kurt nudged him a little. "…and if you don't mind my saying, all things considered, you looked pretty hot crashing in through the doors to the rescue with Logan."

That got Blaine to burst out laughing. Kurt rolled his eyes at him, smirking a little. "That's all it takes, huh? For me to admit that you looked hot in a Die Hard kind of way? _Wow_, Blaine-"

"Alright, alright!" Blaine was trying to hold back the laughter, hugging him. "I didn't even know you watched Die Hard!"

"My dad did, not me. Technically. And Finn. It was bonding time and I watched it since I made them sit through a Project Runway marathon."

"Again?"

"Again. But seriously, afterwards dad actually subconsciously started to coordinate his outfit colors _and _Finn used the term 'empire waist' to describe Rachel's dress one time, so I consider that a huge success."

"God, I love you." Blaine grinned.

Wes materialized and shoved a Tupperware practically onto Blaine's nose. "Does this smell edible to you?"

Blaine withdrew immediately and choked, gasping for breath. "_No_?! It smells like David's football socks!"

"I heard that!"

"What is that?" Kurt coughed, waving fumes away.

"I dunno, I was hungry, and I saw it in the fridge, had a biohazard sticker."

"And you thought this was safe for consumption _how_?" Kurt narrowed his eyes.

Wes shrugged as David poked a spoon into it. "It tasted alright and the spoon didn't melt."

Satoru skidded to a stop at the entrance to the common. "Is that my germ culture?!"

* * *

"_Why do you want to stay in this school?"_

_Kurt Hummel blinked calmly. "When I first came here, I wasn't sure what to expect. I think, whatever I __**did**__ expect, well...it certainly wasn't what I found. I was coming here for the same reasons as some of the others did... to be safe. I heard this place was safe and it felt like the best decision at the time. It __**had**__ been the best decision at the time." He seemed to consider, and then laughed softly, eyes distant. "I found it strange that I fled one home and then found another one. I didn't...well, I didn't expect that."_

_Reed Van Kamp blinked at the camera, puzzled. "W-well..." he cleared his throat, shifting awkwardly in his seat. "Why __**wouldn't**__ I want to be here is the question, right? I've been here since I was a freshman. I wanted to be someplace away from home, because I wanted to figure myself out. Isn't that...isn't that what going here did for a lot of the boys? We all came here for different reasons but in the end, this is really where we're finding ourselves. I don't know how this school does it. Maybe it's the people in it..."_

* * *

The boys came into the common room dragging even _more _of their things in it. Kurt resisted the urge to drag his hand down his face. This was all very counterproductive, as they were supposed to be moving things out, not in. But all the same, he admitted to himself with a sigh as he caught the portfolio of summer looks Reed tossed him, he couldn't really blame them for finding every excuse to not do their real errand.

"Hey Reed!" Blaine suddenly spoke, taking the little artist aside. "I wanted to give you something, you know. Before we all left."

"Really? Oh, Blaine, you don't have to, honestly…" Reed pinked and fidgeted awkwardly, but was nevertheless curious about the black box bag that Blaine was holding.

"There will be no wooing!" Shane materialized out of thin air, leaning into his brother's space, eyes narrowed. "Any and all wooing will be done by _this_ Anderson right here, not you!"

Blaine splayed his hand over his brother's face and pushed it away from him. "There is no wooing, I'm just giving a goodbye present! Go away, geez!"

Reed giggled as Shane shot his brother the 'I'm watching you' hand gesture and stepped away. Blaine just laughed and shook his head. He pushed the case into Reed's hands. "Well, I thought…maybe it was just something that could help you once you're out of here. Your mom mentioned it and, well, anything that will get your mom off your back, right?"

"What do you—? Oh Blaine, _no_, I can't take this!" Reed had opened the case and had found a camera. Even Kurt gave a start from where he had been watching. Reed immediately flustered, knowing that anything this old came with a history. And if he remembered the photographs on Blaine's desk correctly— "Blaine, I can't take this thing, it's not…it's not mine to take!"

"The person who last owned that was one of the best artists I knew in my life," Blaine replied quietly, trying to keep Reed's flailing hands from dropping the camera, and urging him to hold onto it. "His name was Jude and he had amazing photographs. And if you ask me…I think he would've been more than happy for that camera to go to another artist, especially one trying to get into photography. I want you to keep it, Reed. It's time I let go, and for that thing to make good memories…and not stand around being a reminder of bad ones. Okay?"

Reed was flustered, hands clutching the precious camera tight. He looked frightened and unsure, and his expression was still confused as he gazed at it. "I…"

"From one of my close friends to another of my close friends," Blaine nodded. From a few steps away, Shane just smiled almost sadly and he nodded as though agreeing with his brother. "Say you'll take it, Reed. Take some amazing photos."

Staring down at the camera—and pointedly ignoring some distant mutinous grumbling from certain people talking about the likelihood of inheriting a ghost's wrath for taking their property—and glancing up at Blaine, Reed smiled a little and nodded. "…okay. Thank you, Blaine. I know how much this means to you. I'll take good care of it."

"Good luck, Reed," Blaine responded with a smile. "I know you'll do something amazing with it. Be careful with it, okay? Jude said something about the flash being on the fritz and the battery getting too hot or something."

"You didn't even check?" Reed gaped, holding the camera like it was bomb. "Is this thing functional?! What if I open the battery pack and it explodes?! Blaine!"

"Trust me, you'll be _fine, _Reed…" Blaine grinned and jerked his thumb to Shane, who happily ran off to go help Reed. He took Shane's spot where he was sitting next to Kurt, and smiled.

Kurt took his hand and nodded, proud of him.

"Charlie, I think this is yours," Dwight spoke up, and he held out a large blue book he had picked up, glowering at its dust-covered pages.

"I seriously doubt that I own anything that ancient," Charlie frowned back.

"It says Windsor Rulebook – Prefect's Copy! It's yours."

"Oh." Charlie reached for it as there was a nasty crack—everyone looked up to see Wes and David smashed up against the fireplace, groaning and laughing at the same time, half a huge "WARBLEROCK" banner from last year in their hands and the Twins expiring in hysterical laughter with the other half in their hands.

Reed was pouting. "We worked really hard on that, you guys!" He carefully nudged Shane's arms away from him—the younger boy had gotten all overexcited with the others and was overheating him.

The Twins were laughing too hard to speak, especially when Wes and David tried to get up and only managed to get entangled in each other, the two of them gasping for breath between laughter.

"Back to the hospital again?" Blaine smirked as Wes rubbed his head as though checking for injury from banging it too hard on the grate. The mafia heir only grinned up at him.

"Windsors are resilient!" he replied.

"With the way this house lives, I'm not surprised you all didn't just evolve into your own species. Like dinosaurs." Kurt smirked and got up, sweeping up some of the scattered music sheets in a vain attempt to find order in the chaos.

"Be careful!" Dwight protested, hustling the two older boys away from the fireplace. "I haven't gotten my stuff out of my place there yet!" He started moving his hands over the bricks.

"Your _stuff?" _Reed blinked, perplexed, as Charlie sat down next to Blaine, looking into the old prefect manual that Dwight just handed him.

Kurt frowned as Dwight began pulling at the bricks with his fingers, the way one usually tests for loose ones. "When they said to take the stuff at the House down, I don't think they meant the walls, Dwight."

"There's a spot here—ah!" There was the sound of scraping against mortar and a group of bricks stuck together moved a place back, leaving a neat black square of space. The Windsors watched as Dwight started taking out a little jar of salt and a bottle of holy water as well as some medallions from the space.

"Do you just _have_ this kind of stuff all over the house?!" Wes demanded as Dwight took out a lump of white chalk.

"I am the _one force_ standing between humans and the undead!"

"Let it go, man," David sagely patted his best friend's shoulder as Dwight dug further into his little stash and brought out what looked like pieces of crystal. "That way lies madness."

"In this _house _lies madness," Kurt retorted.

"Hey!"

They looked up as Dwight, frowning, up to his elbows in the hole in the wall, said indignantly, "Have you guys been messing with my stuff again?!" He glowered pointedly at the Twins, who were trying to discreetly place a plastic teacup—with its own plastic saucer—on Charlie's fluffy head without his notice, since he was looking at the handbook so intently. The Twins smiled angelically in answer.

"What did you put here?!" Dwight demanded, tugging at something.

"We didn't put anything," the Twins replied, looking puzzled.

"Did too!" Dwight was tugging with all his might now. "What _is_ this thing?"

Blaine sighed, "Guys, why do you do this to Dwight…?"

"Let me see." Kurt picked up a flashlight among the many scattered things in the common room. He checked to see if it was on and he moved over to where Dwight was, shining it into the gap in the wall. The two of them peeked in. "Looks like a box…" Kurt muttered. "Knowing the twins, it's probably booby-trapped. Leave it."

"We haven't done anything!" the identical boys chorused, having managed to balance a plastic teacup _and _a lump of sugar onto Charlie's still-oblivious head.

"I'm getting that thing out of there," Dwight snapped. "It looks old and for all I know, they've desecrated an artifact." He started tugging at it.

"Is that such a good idea?" Reed murmured, looking worried, coming closer, and Shane got up with him, grinning as he peeked in. "Oh cool!" the younger Anderson looked elated. "Like a treasure chest!"

"Maybe the Twins stuffed it in there for one of the treasure hunts and forgot about it," Blaine remarked, also peering in. The Twins threw up their hands, exasperated, but not at all looking offended—in fact, the idea that any hijinks were attributed to them instantly seemed to be somewhat of a compliment.

"Oh alright, let me help." Kurt grabbed onto Dwight. Shane carefully swatted Reed away before he could try—and possibly dislocate something in the process—and held on as well. Blaine reached out and held on from Kurt's side. "On the count of three. One…two…three!"

There was the sound of metal scraping stone and whatever Dwight had found was finally dislodged from the fireplace, throwing the group backwards. At first, Kurt feared that it was part of the building and, knowing Windsor's luck, it was going to result in the complete collapse of the House, but when Dwight dusted the debris off it, it appeared to be a metal box.

The Windsors crowded, puzzled. "What is it…?" Reed whispered, curious, as Dwight brushed the bits of stone and dust away from it.

"Looks like something for a ritual," Dwight frowned, brow furrowed in concern, as his fingers traced over the etchings all over the box.

Kurt opened his mouth to make an argument against it, but looking at the box, he realized that Dwight may be closer to the truth than he thought. It was a very old-looking box, the size of a hatbox, and it had tiny engravings all over it.

But why did it have a Windsor crest?

Charlie finally came to from where he was reading. When he looked up, the two teacups and the little saucers and the sugar lumps tumbled off his head and the Twins made a sound of dismay. Charlie, already well-drilled in the madness hanging around him at all times in this House, rose from his place and walked up to the crowding boys. "What _is_ that?" he asked.

Blaine shook his head. "I don't know. It was in the compartment inside the fireplace."

"…we have that?" Even Charlie looked perplexed now.

The Twins nodded cheerfully. "Yeah. Like the funny little storeroom with all the baseballs behind the second floor bookcase."

The Windsors stared at the two of them. "…we _have_ that?!"

"_What, you don't __**know**__ these things?!_" the speaker crackled from the table as Han snorted in derision. "_If you've seen this House's blueprints, it's pretty nuts; it's got all kinds of rooms and passages like it was being prepared as a war shelter—_"

"Well, I'm _sorry_ we're not spending our days unlocking the deep dark secrets of this academy—" Wes bristled at the speaker.

"Will you guys shush and help me open this thing?!" Dwight finally retorted.

David knelt next to Kurt, fascinated. "Woah…look at the initials on it."

Kurt ran his fingers over the etchings. A closer look _did _show that the etchings, neatly scratched in block letters, were initials. They covered the box in neat rows, with a year after each set.

"It looks pretty old…"Blaine murmured, looking over Kurt's shoulder. "And it has a Windsor crest."

There was a pause, then Charlie looked up with realization in his eyes, feeling startled. "Oh my god."

The Windsors stared at their stunned Prefect, who suddenly ran out of the common room and into the entrance hall. When he returned from rummaging amidst the chaos of the hall, he was holding a heavy book. He picked up the older book that Dwight had given him and he opened both to a marked page.

"…That better not be what I think it is," Kurt remarked.

"The Windsor Rulebook?" Reed grinned. "Yeah it is."

"What kind of a Rulebook has a siren rule anyway?" Kurt demanded.

"One that has rules on New Year's parties, paintball warfare, pastry-sharing protocol, kidnap initiations, and how Windsor deals with the universal _omerta_ of all three Houses," Wes grinned.

Kurt sank his face into his hand, feeling a headache coming on—it was the same kind he usually got when Windsor was doing things that made no sense outside of the school.

Charlie murmured, "The old book has some different rules from the new one, but both books say the same thing in the last part of the 'Prefects Only' section. Frankly the old book's rules are kind of…nuts. Even by our standards."

"I find that hard to believe," Kurt replied.

"Well, it's more like protocol in times of battle. It calls for barricading the entire House perimeter with furniture at the event of a midnight takeover from other Houses and catapulting flaming baseballs that come from the second floor storeroom."

"…Okay, I believe it." Kurt massaged his temples, feeling ill. He tried to make his face as neutral as possible as he did it, but he was certain it wasn't working. _What kind of a school is this…? _He asked himself this on a nearly-daily basis, so it was rhetorical. _How did it remain standing to this day…? This is not the Crusades, people—_

Charlie turned both books to the same page. "_For the Prefect_," he read out loud to the Windsors. "_Until it is time, you are not to read the end of this book. As the end of the year approaches, turn to the last page of the book and follow the instructions strictly. As prefect, it will be your honor and duty to lead the last tradition_."

"And let me guess," Blaine gave their prefect a smile. "You did exactly as a Windsor does when told _not_ to do something."

Charlie's smile was almost embarrassed as he turned to the end of the book and read, "'_Since we are sure you are reading this because you didn't listen to the rule that says don't read it_—'" an explosion of laughter from the Windsors, "'—_keep this a secret until the time comes. As the year ends, take a select group of your seniors as your honor guard, and begin the tradition. In a loose brick in the fireplace hides our Legacy. Open it, treasure it, and find your way back to where we wait for you._'"

"It's like a scavenger hunt!" The Twins looked absolutely delighted, jumping up and down.

"Looks like this school is playing one last game with us before we all leave," Blaine smiled.

"We're galloping off to find the Holy Grail, are we?" Dwight raised an eyebrow.

"Well first thing's first, Arthur—we got to get that box open," Charlie gestured to the box.

Blaine got up, dusting his hands off his pants. "Well…that's going to take a little effort. The box is old, but the lock is new. Which means we can blame last year's boys for sealing it like this. Did they give you a key, Chaz?"

Charlie just shook his head. "We need a crowbar or something. Remind me to thank Ryan and the guys." He rolled his eyes before leveling a gaze at the Twins. "You guys are the ones good at messing with locks. Can you do something about this?"

Both twins produced a set of bolt cutters. Why they were even carrying a pair around was lost to everyone. "Let's just break the stupid thing," they declared.

"Why is your first reaction to break something—?!" Blaine demanded.

He was ignored by Windsor's terrible two—and they poised the cutters over the padlock. They shooed away danger-prone Reed—"Go stay over there before something flies at you and blinds you or something…"—who sat next to Shane, watching curiously as the twins prepared to break the lock.

Both twins placed their hands onto the handles. "Okay…in one…two…"

A metallic clang broke through the air as the lock snapped under the cutters and the Windsors winced only slightly. "There we go," Ethan grinned as Evan reached over and undid the lock pieces. Then he ceremoniously dropped the box into Charlie's hands. "S'all yours, chief."

Charlie blinked at the box in his hands. The Windsors all collectively backed away from him as though they were holding a time bomb. Whatever it is that was in that box, if Windsors had something to do with it, they had every right to question whether or not it was booby trapped.

"Charlie, you should be wearing a welding mask of some kind," Kurt warned.

"No, I've got this," Charlie winced as he very carefully began to lift the lid. "I'm prefect, I have to take…point…" He trailed away, blinking at the contents.

Silence fell in the room.

"What is it?" Reed finally whispered.

"…Paper." Charlie pulled out a thick sheaf of paper in varying degrees of age. The Windsors crept up to him as he shuffled carefully through the pages, each one with the seal of the house at the top. Below were years, followed by many, many names.

"More names," Kurt muttered, taking a couple of the papers. "Are these…?"

"…Old Windsors," Blaine murmured, looking over his shoulder. "They have to be. It's full of names of the Legacies." Somberly, he passed the papers out to the other boys, who stared as with each sheet, the list of names became older and older, with each year. The paper got yellower the further they went back, more delicate—stained with time with the ink of the pens bleeding and fading. Some were so old that the Windsors didn't want to pick them up. Blaine held on to one particular piece of gilded paper that seemed to be more like an honor roll than a record of names.

"Prefects list," Blaine muttered.

Kurt looked up and stared at the paper in Blaine's hands. Across each year were names. "Looks like they have to sign it—to say that they've put the names in every year."

Kurt ran his perfectly cared for fingernail down the list of names, and blinked in surprise when he came across one name. He laughed. "Dwight, there's someone with your name on here."

The hunter's head snapped up from where he was inspecting the papers for marks of evil sacrificial rituals. "'Scuse me?" he asked, dark eyes big.

"Well, it says Dwight Houston. The middle name is different."

Dwight crawled up to Blaine and Kurt and looked at the paper. Kurt drew a line with his nail under the name Dwight Harrisford Houston. Dwight's eyes grew as large as saucers when he saw the name and year, and a quick mental calculation later: "That's Uncle Ford! It's my uncle!"

"Wait, your uncle went here to this school—to _this House_—and you didn't know?" Blaine blinked. "You don't _know_ that you're a Legacy?"

"I _knew_ he was here at _some _point!" Dwight flustered. "I mean, he said he was sent here! That's how I even knew this place existed because he—but I didn't…that he was a Windsor—and _prefect_—but he…."

The boys stared at him in surprise. Not only was his uncle a bona fide Dalton boy, but he was a Windsor, _and_ a Prefect. Dwight, dumbfounded, could be gibbering like that for the next half hour or so, and so Kurt continued to look down the list of names.

He grabbed Blaine's arm. "Blaine—look!"

Blaine looked down. "What?" His eyes followed to where Kurt was pointing. It was one of the more recent numbers, and Kurt was carefully pointing to one name that jumped out in neat handwriting.

Wes looked up when he felt Blaine tugging at his sleeve. He and David leaned forward as the Twins squatted down and took a peek as well.

"Whoa…." David began to grin a little.

"Gregory Harvey…." Blaine murmured with a small smile.

"He was a prefect…." Kurt felt a little surprised. "I mean, I knew he was a Windsor because of that banner during the service but he was a prefect too? Why didn't anyone say anything?"

It might not seem like much, considering how much attention the boys gave Charlie sometimes, but the fact remained that in Windsor, being a prefect still counted for something big. Although it may seem like more of a punishment than an honor, being prefect in Windsor meant you had the respect of every eccentric, hardheaded, rambunctious boy within its halls. It was still a position of power.

Charlie murmured, "Because it shouldn't matter all that much in the end. Windsors are Windsors…and we all look out for each other." He looked at the boys. "Don't we?"

The Twins just smiled knowingly to themselves as some of the Windsor boys laughed softly. If the last incident was any indication, then clearly that was true. Blaine nudged Kurt a little, beaming at him. Kurt returned the smile, remembering how even long before the fiasco that was hell night, these same boys were the ones surrounding him when he had come to this school, the same ones who stood by him when they thought he was in some kind of danger.

They were the strangest boys he knew, but they were also his friends, and they proved that time and again.

* * *

"_What do you mean __**why**__?" Wes Hughes laughed hollowly, looking as though he had been prepared for the interrogation from the way he sat for the camera. But he checked himself, and sat up a little straighter when the headmaster gestured him to sit up a little. "I came here because it was safe. It was someplace I could be...I could be just me. It was good for my family, good for me…. And I felt...amazingly normal here. Because back home, sometimes…." He made that hollow laugh again and made a little strangling gesture. "Argh... you know what I mean...?"_

"_It's the place I always knew I'd go to," David Sullivan replied evenly, looking cool and composed, ignoring the camera and seemingly staring directly at the Headmaster. "My dad talked about this place in two moods_—_the times when he sounded like he was so happy to have gone, and the times when he seemed to wonder what he ever did to be sent here. I found that interesting too. I always knew I'd go here, just like Dad did. Not just for Legacy, but because...because aren't those two moods the way you talk about home sometimes...?"_

* * *

The paper wasn't the only thing in the box. There was a rattle that broke them from their reverie, and Charlie withdrew a ring of keys, old and jingling as he lifted them out. "What are those for?" Wes asked, puzzled..

"Maybe there's something else," Charlie replied. "There may be more to this than just the list of Legacies. Look." He tapped a silver plate in the velvet inlay of the box.

Engraved on the plate were the words, _From Dalton boys, to Dalton boys, and to the boys yet to come._

When examined closely, the silver writing on the plate matched the ones on the silver tab on the keychain. There were no words on the ornament, only a code, which said, "HDB 117".

"Well that one makes sense at least," remarked Evan, straightening up to full height with marked confidence, as his twin nodded, pointing to the silver tab.

"It does?" Kurt stared.

"HDB is the building code for the Herman Dalton Building," Ethan explained. "It's in the South and Main compound of buildings, though it's not connected to it like all the rest are."

"Yeah. South and Main's got classrooms and laboratories and offices, but there's nothing that links it up to the Herman Dalton Building. That's where you find a some of the separate staff offices, but it's also mostly used as a records annex," Evan added.

"_They've memorized the school map_," Han supplied helpfully from the speaker, as though he could sense Kurt's narrow-eyed expression of disbelief at the twins' remarkable knowledge of the school grounds. "_It helps when you break into places and have to run away. You see, Alice, school can be a labyrinth if you don't know the way._"

"I'm sure." Kurt raised an eyebrow, and then looked at the boys. Blaine stared back at him and shrugged, and turned his eyes to their prefect. Presently, all the boys now stared at the senior who was meant to be leading them all.

Charlie was looking at the prefects' list in his hand, moving down the list. He stopped near the bottom, where he knew his own name would have been if he could graduate from this school. When he looked up, he saw all eyes of the Windsors on him. "What?"

They stared expectantly back, waiting. Charlie's eyes landed on who he may have deemed the only living relatively _rational_ being in Windsor.

Kurt only kept his eyebrow raised incredulously, completely unhelpful, and clearly not on the side of prudence. "What have we got to lose?"

Charlie sighed. He slammed the box shut. Oh what the hell. He's been good long enough. He looked at the boys. "Bring the bolt cutters."

* * *

"_It's just that we've had so much progress here, you know?" Derek Seigerson tried to make himself clear, sprawled on the chair. "We keep talking about all the successful alums, the amazing SAT scores, the championships, the charities, everything this school has ever done. And yet all of that pales in comparison to what's been done to, well...the students. Some of them...actually a __**lot**__ of them built themselves up again in here."_

_John Logan Wright III was sitting very still. His eyes never left the Headmaster. When he spoke, he was almost unnaturally calm. "...This is home. At least, for me it is. A lot of the time...it feels like Manhattan is the boarding school. I'm there but it doesn't feel...like anything. It's bad, isn't it, to say that kind of thing?" The corners of his lips quirked a little. He added, "...this place feels like home to me. I don't even know what it meant until I started to lose it."_

* * *

"What the hell are all of you doing here?!" Wes demanded in a pitched tone that gave away true shock not more than fifteen minutes later.

That was the amount of time it took for the Windsors to completely drop their supposed "packing" schedule, and prepare to mount a sneak invasion to the Herman Dalton Building. (By then, Kurt and Blaine—and it seemed, their long-suffering prefect—had given up any hope of getting the Windsors to do anything).

After recruiting some Windsors to run interference against Todd Howard, the main pack of conspirators fled the building. It was still daylight, and getting to the South and Main was done in stealth mostly to not arouse any suspicion—they weren't supposed to even have any business in there whatsoever. Kurt kept his eyes to the building that was their target, and pretended he could not see very well in the distance, the closed-off fence of tarpaulins that blocked the way to the ruined Art Hall.

Upon arriving at the structure—old, brick, and strangely resolute in spite of the grave circumstances—the indefatigable Brightman Twins displayed exactly how good they are at breaking into places: it took them a grand total of thirty seconds to open the door for the others, most of which was taken up by one of the twins unlatching a window from the outside, and going from window to door.

Locating the room was a bit of a challenge. They had to break their way into a couple more dividing doors into other hallways before they finally saw the old wood of the double doors with the little brass plate engraved 117. Considering their history of breaking and entering into places they are not allowed into, the way they slip into impromptu plans of such things with the ease of practice, they had expected to get this far without much problems.

What they _didn't _expect was that they wouldn't be alone in their quest.

The fact was, Blaine decided as he stared at the assembled boys in the dead silent hall, was that _no one_ was even supposed to be here. As far as the school was concerned, the boys were only supposed to be in their houses, or the South and Main for the Day students packing things up from their lockers.

In fact, he had expected that only his fleet of friends would be brazen enough to go traipsing around their still mainly off-limits school grounds, break into an administration building—_the school __**does**__ need better security, then, or at least Tweedle-proof ones_, he thought unhappily—and prepare to unlock some student-related secret pact of Legacy.

Which meant that the presence of his ex-boyfriend leading a small detachment of Stuarts showing up in the same place was completely and entirely unexpected, bordering on the universe downright messing with Blaine at this point. This also went for the fact that Charlie's best friend—Saint _Justin Bancroft_ of all people, honestly—had also led a small group of Hanovers into the hall. Majority of those assembled were Warblers.

Kurt, standing next to Blaine's shell-shocked expression, didn't have to look at him when he reached over with one hand and carefully closed Blaine's mouth for him.

Logan Wright crossed his arms and glared in a way that was only at twenty-percent menace. "I should be asking all of you the same thing."

"We're rather impressed, Logan," Evan grinned at the Stuart prefect, his expression suggesting that this was true. "We didn't think you or any of your boys had the guts to break into an administration building."

"Or that any of you even knew how," Ethan added with a sweet smile, leaning on his double.

"It helps when you have the keys," Derek told them with a pained smile, holding up a ring of keys. "Seriously, why go through the whole cat-burglar thing?"

"The _point_ that Wes was trying to say," Charlie said loudly now, making them all look at him, "is _what_ are you all doing here?"

It was Blaine who finally gestured at the box—yes, the size of a hatbox—under Logan's arm and smiled. "It looks like for the same reason we are." He walked up to the other prefect, with Kurt watching curiously. "Where did you find the Stuarts' box?"

"The rulebook said we can't tell," Logan replied with a sigh that suggested that this should've been obvious.

"Well of course you'll have a rulebook…" Kurt sighed deeply before he looked over to the familiar boys with the white and gold shields. "And so does Hanover?"

In response, Justin simply smiled and held up his own silver box. By comparison, the Hanover box seemed the best kept. It still shone. "I felt that as this may be the very last time this would be done, so I went ahead and went as planned…"

Logan snorted, mildly impressed. "You read the back of the rulebook too?"

"Doesn't _everyone_?" For someone supposedly a respectable Hanover, Justin looked honestly stunned that people were just not compelled to go ahead and _not_ do what they are told, especially by crusty old rulebooks. To their credit, the other Hanovers stared at their prefect like he'd grown a second head.

Kurt finally decided that they've all tortured themselves with suspense long enough. "Evan, Ethan, could you just—_open the door_?"

"Yessir!"

In a swift move, Evan happily flicked the keys off Charlie—"_Hey!_"—and tossed the keys to Ethan's waiting hand. The twin caught them easily and he faced the double doors as the group of boys anxiously surged forward to look. Kurt walked to the door with Blaine as there was the click of the heavy bolt lock releasing.

The Twins stepped back a little to push the doors open for everyone. As the old oak moved away, the smell of ink, paper, and dust swept at the group. Kurt blinked into the darkness of what looked like a very large room with no windows.

"…Huh?" he heard Blaine murmur as he moved next to him. The two of them joined the other mystified boys as they stepped forward into the darkness. Footfalls clicked on floor, and echoed like they were in a cave. "Reed, stick by the others, I don't want you hitting—"

There was the sound of a foot catching onto something and a body hit the ground moments later. "...um...ow."

"—Anything." Blaine finished lamely. He sighed into the blackness. "Where are you, Reed?"

"I've got him!" chirruped Shane's voice.

"Of course you have, why did I ask...?"

"Ow! Spencer, that was my foot!" Justin snapped.

"I'm over _here_, how could I possibly—" there was the sound of a slap. "Oh god, I'm sorry—"

"Well, there goes my eye!" Thad grumbled, in pain.

"This is it," Dwight murmured despondently in the dark. "This is where I actually die. In an old cursed room in the dark with everyone tripping over _every single spell in the_—"

"Dwight, please—" Charlie ground out.

Only Logan could sound as truly exasperated as he did when he spoke up. "Damn it, hang on. I found the light."

Before anyone else could speak—or injure themselves—there was the loud click of a heavy switch, and the room was almost instantly flooded with light from old yellow lamps curling from the pillars. The entire room burst into illumination—Kurt had just caught his breath, the boys swarming up behind him in shock, as a stunned and almost dazzled Logan hit the next switch, and a large chandelier of the same golden color burst to life overhead.

The boys stood, in complete wonder, when they saw walls covered in images and old portraits, in glinting frames. Dozens of them, all around, some of them actual painted portraits, while others were photographs, large and small. Some of the portraits had a single person, distinguished with his own plaque, but many, _many_ of them entire classes of boys. Tiny indicator ribbons decked each frame-in the colors of the Houses of the boys in the photos, or in Dalton's own colors.

And standing all around the entire hall, in neat varnished rows, were what looked like cubby shelves. Endless rows of shelves, separated only by a middle aisle, cordoned off in velvet rope.

Blaine stayed at Kurt's side as the two of them walked down the hall in wonder, gazing at the hall, marveling at the tarnish of age on the oldest of the shelves while the newest ones still gleamed as though recently procured. "What is this place…?" he murmured.

"Good question…" Wes remarked, looking around.

"Some kind of…archive, I think," Kurt blinked, looking at all the photographs and the shelves. "Are these all the graduates? There's no way these are all the graduates…is it?"

"Well…" Blaine moved close to one of the photographs. "There's a class photo for each House. And then a year. So I'm guessing, yeah. This is everybody."

"Haven't any of you people heard of yearbooks...?" Kurt murmured, although it lacked conviction, as he stared at the illustrious place.

The Twins suddenly crowed out in delight, making the others look up. They were near the end of the hall, at a velvet rope, and were jumping up and down in excitement, pointing to a portrait. "Look! Look! Look! Look!"

"God, they're like muppets," Charlie muttered, stalking towards them. "What is it?"

"_It's great great grandpa Alfalfa!_"

"Your grandfather's name is Alfalfa?" Kurt stared.

"No, that's just what they called him because he liked to eat alfalfa," Evan replied cheerfully, pointing happily at a blond man whose portrait hung heavily against the far wall.

"His full name is Oscar Thebold Brightman," Ethan added importantly, brimming with pride. "He's one of the founders of Dalton Academy."

Full stop.

"_Excuse me_?" Logan demanded.

"Wait, I thought _Herman Dalton_ founded Dalton Academy." Derek frowned, getting up from where he had been inspecting some of the shelves near the ground.

"He did!" Evan struggled a little, climbing one of the pedestals to get a better look, even with his twin giving him a boost. Kurt rolled his eyes and yanked the blond twin back down before something very old got destroyed, and he received a pout from Ethan for his efforts. Evan continued, "But Herman Dalton didn't raise the whole place on his own. Our we-don't-know-how-many-times-great granddad Alfalfa was one of the guys who helped him put it up."

"Dad said there's been a Brightman in Dalton since the beginning!" Ethan added cheerfully. "Just like it was meant to have been!"

This is the first time Blaine was hearing of all this, and he stared at them, stunned. "Wait—what are you saying? You guys…your family _owns_ this school?"

The twins looked at each other, puzzled, and then back at the others, looking contemplative. "…Sort…of…? We wouldn't exactly call it that..."

Kurt sighed, shaking his head. Things began to fall to place, as to why nothing ever _stuck_ to the Brightmans and why they did everything and anything without fear. "How else would they be able to get away with half the things they do?"

He paused and looked at Blaine. "And didn't Mr. Brightman say that he of all people should've been able to better protect the school?" At Blaine's baffled expression, Kurt returned his attention to the twins. "Is it because Brightmans are responsible for this place? Mr. Brightman thinks he should've kept a better eye on the school."

"It would make sense…." Wes remarked, looking around before smirking at the Twins. "And the two of you do whatever the hell you guys want without seeming to care about getting expelled… This place must be your own personal playground."

"It's not that easy," Ethan protested, a little flustered. "Well...yes, it gives us a lot of clout, but that means next to nothing..."

"...If we do it carelessly," Evan finished. He looked at everyone. "But what dad always said was, it also means we've got to take care of this place…and the people inside it."

Which was really a very strange responsibility to put on two teenage boys, Kurt decided. But then again, on his list of Strange Things In Dalton Academy, this wouldn't make anywhere near the top ten.

Suddenly Charlie spoke up, his tone belying equal parts apprehension and amazement, "…Is that why you two ran into the Art Hall just like that? When we found it burning, you two ran in without hesitation! Did you do that because..." He let that trail away.

The twins seemed to be expecting Kurt's gaze when their "Alice" looked at them again. "It wasn't just that," Evan began.

"It's because we're all friends, right?" Ethan said, smiling a little. "...How could we have just stood there...?"

In spite of himself, Kurt smiled at them.

After a pause, Logan spoke, almost hesitantly. "…_all_ of us?"

Blaine smiled to himself as he stepped up next to Kurt and glanced back at his ex-boyfriend who stood with a strange look on his face. He looked to the Twins, who shrugged a little.

"We'd yank out Kurt, Blaine, and Reed out of a nuclear power plant set to blow if we had to," Evan declared.

"But we go way back with you…and Julian's not _completely _heinous…" the grin on Ethan's face showed deep amusement, "...we guess maybe you guys grew on us too."

Logan rolled his eyes and instead occupied himself with the shelves. "What _is_ all this...stuff anyway? Students' records?"

"I thought those would go into the archives office…" Danny spoke up, puzzled, having been helping out at the school offices and quite aware of where things went. But he had never heard of this place before.

"Easy way to find out." Charlie looked into one of the shelves and pulled a handful of paper out.

"Chaz!" Reed gasped, horrified that they were desecrating the place.

"_I'm Windsor Prefect, I can do anything I want_," Charlie retorted indignantly and grumbled as he sifted through the papers. "If I there's a time to abuse my power, it ought to be—" he stopped, flipping over an old photo of a young man with dark hair and horn-rimmed glasses. "Oh."

"What?" Kurt hurried up to him, curious, as the others swarmed around him.

"It's an old photo and it looks like a letter. Some old exam results…." Charlie carefully opened the folded letter.

"_To the Dalton boy holding this, I want you to know… I spent most of my high school years trying to get everything perfect in everything I did. I had to do everything perfectly. I had to, because the people around me expected my focus and my outstanding grades. I lived for that alone. One day in senior year, I got an exam result that wasn't perfect—I was so concentrated on everything, I neglected to turn the paper over. I failed that exam. I want you to know—the world didn't end. Nobody laughed at me, nobody thought less of me. I spent my years thinking if I wasn't perfect, I was nothing. But I'm not nothing. I was still the same. A single failed exam didn't define me. I feel sad that I let my life revolve around this, and I missed all the things I should've been doing. All because of a few points on a piece of paper…."_

With realization dawning on him, Charlie looked up, stunned. "…These are for us."

"_To the Dalton boy holding this letter_," Wes suddenly began from one of the other pieces of shelving, making everyone look at him. He was holding the photograph of a boy with sandy hair. "_This school has been my home for the past few years, and I think that I've found my best friends here. I don't believe that I will ever have a Legacy—at the time of this writing, having gay people adopt children isn't really acceptable, but I have hope for the future—so I leave this to you. They say high school is awful for a lot of people…and it would've been for me too. But I came here, and I realized that it didn't have to be horrible. That I had friends here. That I was safe."_

"Letters…." Kurt stared as boys began running around the shelves, looking at plaques of years and photographs. They dug into the shelves, pulling out treasures. "Letters left for the future." He stared in amazement as paper started flying. He realized, _This place...it's like one big time capsule. But left for others to find._

There was a laugh of delight from Reed when he pulled out a letter and hundreds of paper stars fell on him. "Look at this!" he cried, delighted. He was reading in the letter in moments.

The Twins were laughing, running around tossing an old autographed baseball they found in the shelves, and they vanished into the other aisles, looking for more.

"It's memories…?" Blaine whispered as he picked up one of the letters in the shelves. "Lots and lots of memories. From everyone."

"This is what they meant..." Charlie looked amazed, looking around at everything. "The books say...every year, the Prefect and the Seniors make these letters, leave these treasures, and read some of the letters. And then, once that was done, they will take their own memories and the ones they saw in here, and give advice to the incoming freshmen. They do it every year."

"It's like..." Justin let out his breath. "It's passing on memories and knowledge. In stories or advice. From the seniors to the freshmen and on and on, until they have to leave their memories here too..." He stopped and did a double take at one shelf, and made a beeline for it as Spencer and Danny went after him.

"All this, this was done by…Dalton boys…" Kurt looked around, surprised. "From the very beginning."

"Ours are supposed to end up here too…" Blaine replied, looking at a photo of a boy with a group of friends, smiling happily at a lacrosse game. "Supposed to be. But…" his smile faltered. "I think after all this…this will all disappear. There...isn't a new generation to pass this on to."

"They can't not remember this…" Kurt frowned, almost scandalized, as he walked to one of the relatively "newer" shelves. "They have to know all of this is still in here, right…?" He put his hand into one of the shelves and pulled a photograph out. A very familiar blond boy looked back at him from the photo.

"Logan…?" Kurt whispered, stunned.

Surprised, Blaine laughed a little as he looked at the photograph in Kurt's hands. "It's him!" he looked up at the Stuart prefect, who thought he was being called.

Kurt felt confused, staring at the photograph in his hand. "But...I don't understand. No one's _been _in here, how would Logan..."

"What?" the Stuart prefect moved to them, sensing he was the topic of their conversation. Kurt turned to him immediately, holding out the photograph. "Logan, look. How did your picture get here?"

"That's ridiculous." Logan gave him a confused expression for a moment as he took the photo from his hand. Holding it with both hands, he stared at it, and was silent for so long that Derek looked up, sensing something amiss.

"...What?" Kurt asked, blinking at him.

There was a strange expression on Logan's face, as though he wasn't sure of how to react. There was a fight of emotions on his face, none of which he was permitting to show. When he got his voice back, he murmured, "...This...this isn't me." He loosened his hold on the picture a little, closing his eyes as though trying to believe it.

"It's not?" Blaine carefully took the photo from him and stared. But it looked absolutely like Logan: the hair, the eyes, even the same cool expression. He handed it back to Logan, who took it carefully.

"No..." Logan murmured, gazing at the photograph, swallowing. He looked at those green eyes that were just like his own, clear with youth, and it felt as though he was looking into someplace he had never thought he'd see. "...this is my father."

All the boys stopped momentarily to stare.

"_That's_ Senator Wright?" Kurt asked, looking from Logan and back to the photograph, remembering only now that the hard man that he had seen before in the Winter Festival. The same volatile man who had been furious in the hospital, had gone to the same school as they did. And there he was. It was—and couldn't be anyone other—than Logan's father.

"Legacies…." Reed whispered his realization, looking around.

As if the word turned on a switch, boys began to run. Behind him, the Twins ran off, diving into the shelves. David had a strange expression on his face as he went to the shelves as well, looking for the right house from the same ranks that Kurt had been looking into. Derek took another glance at his best friend and surreptitiously looked at the shelves, looking as well.

"Did this…" Kurt looked up when Logan spoke again, and the taller boy's breath seemed to catch. He hesitated before continuing, "…was there anything with this…? Or was it just a photo?"

Kurt looked at him, and then carefully pulled out the rest of the papers from the shelf he looked into. "These?"

Logan gave him a long look before he tentatively took the papers from his hands. "Thank you."

Seeing the expression on Logan's face, Blaine was about to ask him if he was alright when he heard David speak, strong and clear.

"_To the Dalton boy reading this…." _David began, Wes looking over his shoulder with a smile. David held the photograph of a young man who he looked strikingly like, a wide smile on the boy's face. "_I may not know who you are, but I'm leaving this for you. One day, you'll be my son, though. You see, if I ever have a kid, I want to send him to this school too. Not to punish him…" _puzzled, he looked at Wes, who just shook his head, confused, and shrugged, "…_but because I think I found friends who may be my friends for life. I want him to have those same things. I hope __**you**__ have those same things too. I was alone once. It was alright for a long while and I thought it was the only way I could get through…but once I wasn't so alone, I realized that maybe letting people in wasn't such a bad idea." _

David exhaled, looking at the photo, questions written all over his face and strangely touched by it. "Harry Sullivan. Dad. My dad..."

"_To the Dalton boy reading this…." _Dwight murmured after him, making the people around him jump. He was looking into a photograph of a young man with dark hair, who he found he looked rather alike. His voice wavered, different from his tone at the pulpit. "_…I don't know if you will be my Legacy. I can hope you are, but all the same, I'm glad you found this. This is what I leave for you. They say that Hell is High School, full of monsters. That can be so true, and sometimes, not. But I think there are other monsters out there much worse than we think. Some of them are inside us. I didn't think much of this place when I first came here, but let me tell you what I do know. I've seen my share of demons, both in me and out. Guess that's why I was sent here. But what I know for a fact is…in this place, you get to find people who'll fight your demons with you." _Dwight folded the letter closed, closing his eyes. "Ford Houston."

"_Either of two things,_" Derek read from the letter in his hands, which shook in spite of his best efforts to hold it back. He kept blinking into mists. "_You don't take it seriously enough, or you take it too seriously. Either extreme is bad. And I learned that the hard way. Somewhere along the middle is just about right. And I learned that here. Here's hoping I don't forget it along the way, but even if I do, I hope you don't. It's just not worth it. You just have to do what you can. To do your best. And however it turns out, you know you did right in the end. P.S. Just in case you're my Legacy, then whoever you are, I hope you know I'm proud of you. My dad hasn't told it to me enough. So I'm telling it to you. I'm proud of you." _Derek closed the letter and looked down at the photo of a boy with a handsome grin, and he fought back a watery smile and had to look away. "Ernie Siegerson. Damn it, dad…"

"_I am very difficult,_" Justin read out loud, letting out all his breath while holding the photograph of a boy wearing a family emblem on his tie-one that looked like the one he himself had not worn in a long time. "_I know that very well. I've fought at every turn, got me into quite a bit of a mess back home. I didn't like choices, decisions-the hard ones. People had to do it for me, and I hated that too. The funny thing is, when I set foot in this school, I started to learn that there were some decisions too important to delegate to someone else, and some choices that I must fight for. There are just some things too important to not stand for, some things you have to do yourself, and for the right reasons. And I think you will make those right choices too. Don't let them take it from you." _He smiled to himself, and ran his fingers over the writing that said 'Richard Bancroft'.

As boys around them started reading the letters, generation after generation of Legacy left behind by boys who had lived in these halls, found friends and etched memories into the walls, Blaine almost felt envious for the boys who could claim Legacy, who had fathers, uncles, brothers who had come before them.

He looked at himself, at the blazer and the tie that he had worn with no small degree of pride since that first day he came to Dalton, and smiled a little. He was a Dalton boy too. And the messages in the shelves were addressed to him as well as any of them.

"What does yours say?" Blaine asked, looking at Logan, who was staring at the letter in his hands. Compared to some of the letters, it's a novel.

"It's not mine," Logan murmured hesitantly.

"It's your dad's, isn't it?" Kurt blinked at him. "Then how could it be anyone else's?"

Logan couldn't answer.

_To the Dalton boy reading this letter. They told us to write this for our Legacy. Future generations. Other Dalton boys, who could possibly be our sons too. Are you my son? If you are, maybe I should start apologizing right now. It mustn't have been easy. My dad and I don't have the easiest kind of relationship either. He's the reason I got sent here—because he doesn't like how I do things. _

_See, I have this terrible habit. Whenever I sense that I'm failing something, that I've done something wrong with something, especially when it's important, I'll drop it and never look back. I don't bother with things I can't do or can't fix. Or should I say, __**won't **__do and __**won't**__ fix. I can only look at the things I could do that I've got no problems with. He hates that. He hates that I won't get up and fix anything I've broken in his eyes. He hates that I only do what I want to do—what I think I __**can**__ do._

_I guess I just don't like thinking about the fact that I've failed at something. Anything. It makes me feel ashamed? I don't know. I can't look at it. I get so angry, it won't let me do anything about it. My relationship with him is like that too. I already know I've messed it up with him. I don't want to look at it any more. It's something that can't be fixed. I tried it, and I can't. I tried really hard._

_I keep telling myself right now, I don't want to be like that to my kid, if I ever have one. If you __**are**__ my kid, damn, I feel sorry for you, having me as a dad. I could swear to myself right now to do my best, but I'm honest-to-God worried. I'm worried that I've given up all over again. Only you'll know the answer to that. Me standing here, I don't know. A lot of things can happen between now and when you read this._

_I want you to know, though: it's not you. There's something wrong with me, and I'm fighting it like I'm fighting to breathe, and a lot of the time, I don't win, I can admit that. Anger wins. Shame wins. So it's not you. _

_But—and this is the important bit—whatever you do, don't give up. Giving up isn't an option for you anymore; we've robbed you of that chance. Whatever you do, God help us both, don't you dare give up. Because where I failed, I'm pretty sure you can succeed. Dad gave up on me. I gave up on him. That right there's two generations of Wrights giving up. Don't be the third one. You have to beat us both. Beat us to the ground. Third time's the charm._

_See you around._

_P.S. I've probably given you my name. Sorry about that. Hey, I didn't ask to get an old name like my dad's either, you know._

Kurt had watched Logan read the letter with that strange expression on his face like he's trying to breathe. But Kurt turned around when he heard a rustle from behind him. He turned around just in time to see a piece of paper falling from a shelf where it had been hastily returned, and he looked up just in time to see Blaine vanishing out the door of the huge archive room.

"Blaine…?" Stunned, he looked at the shelf that Blaine had just been standing by, reading the papers. He looked at the paper that fluttered down. It was a photograph of a young man with a kind smile, wearing a Windsor crest on his lapel, and Kurt knew immediately who he was looking at.

The young man's boyish looks had never quite faded, even when he had grown to become the music teacher that had welcomed him here in Dalton Academy.

* * *

_The Twins, Evan and Ethan Brightman were smiling at the Headmaster, identical, mirroring each other, and extremely comfortable in their surroundings. Their smiles were almost abashed. "Things got boring a lot for us, you know. We didn't grow up with a whole lot of friends. We were a little strange, weren't we? The house was quiet a lot. So we made our own adventures to fill it up. In school, we found out that all the money in the world didn't buy people who would tolerate us. That they could be nice to you because of who you knew and what you had…but they can turn around and say other things, because they don't really like you._

_We were the only ones we could trust. And there were so few who let us be their friends in spite of the way we were. When we were sent here, we thought dad was looking for another way to maybe keep us out of his hair. But it seemed he knew a little better…. People still found us strange, but they didn't call us freaks or unnatural. They didn't try to separate us…in fact some of them decided to let us come and play._

_...How could we possibly want to leave?" _

* * *

Blaine stood in the darkness of Warblers hall trying to collect his thoughts and trying to breathe. He had to, he felt like he was stifling in that room, full of the voices of boys who had passed the halls and felt hope-while right now it felt like he was drowning, floundering in the search for a direction that everyone else seems to have found.

Whenever he was looking to collect his thoughts and try to get them together, he ran to music. That was how he found himself making a beeline to the Warblers' music hall, where he always seemed to end up when he was looking for music.

He stood, looking around at the darkness that enveloped the place. All the days that had gone when the school had been untouched by a living soul left everything in the hall exactly the way they had left it.

Some music sheets rustled on a table, forgotten. A pen sat abandoned at one of the couches. Blaine swallowed and realized that this place which brought boys from all the Houses together, where they all created music, where he found friends and where they had worked so hard would be just as abandoned, closed, for good.

"_To the Dalton boy reading this_."

At that clear voice, Blaine looked up and saw Kurt at the door, following him in the way Alice had followed the Rabbit, smiling briefly at him before he looked back to the letter in his hand. "_I think that if there is anything I want to impart on you, it's that music has been my life here at school_."

Biting his lip, Blaine lowered his eyes, knowing those words; he had read them himself. Kurt continued as he read, walking to him. "_Whenever something off happened to me at home—and that happened a lot—I turned up the music. I sang or I just listened and listened. Sometimes it felt like the music just sucked up all of those feelings and turned it into something else. Turned it into something beautiful, like art. It made me feel better. It helped."_

Behind Kurt, drawn by the sudden disappearance of their two friends and having followed them, some boys peered in. Reed's silhouette, familiar with its curls, in the hallway light, and the Twins looking tall and alien, very curious.

As Wes poked his head in as well, David in tow, Kurt spoke again._ "During my time here in Dalton, I was a member of the Warblers, and it was like I was with this family. A group of other boys who felt the same way about music. We made music, shared it, let our feelings out in it. It's good medicine, you know, for anyone. Even the ones who think choir singing is lame. The Warblers helped me, and I want to give back the favor."_

More boys appeared at the door. Many of them, not even Warblers, started to come into the hall. Kurt watched them come in, wondering if they found their ways in through the same ones they did, looking for friends who had gone exploring and made the hall their hideaway.

Kurt kept walking, until he stood in front of Blaine, still reading. "_Don't forget to try music if you need it. That's the only thing I can tell you that I think really works. A bunch of things can come and go…but with me, music stays. I want to be a music teacher, help other kids through music. Try to show them how much it could help. I want to them in any way I could, too, with it. That's how much I believe in it. For me…music is home. And anyone who shares music with me is family."_

The hall was reaching its capacity. Out the corner of his eye, he saw Danny take the spot against the wall near Wes, and remembered that Danny would be Wes' oldest friend in school, since Hanover was his first family. The prefects wandered in as well, clearly consenting to all this, and making sure they were not seen by patrolling teachers.

"_You, reading this, if you love music this way, then you're family too. I hope you find a song that will move you to tears, or a song you would want to sing to express everything you didn't know how to really say. I hope you find music that brings you closer to people, binding you together. I hope you find music that leads you to family, friends who will stand at your side. I hope you find music that blows the world away. And I hope, like me, you can share it for others to find."_

He raised his eyes and smiled at Blaine. "_Greg Harvey, Windsor House._"

The boys who had come in smiled faintly at the words of their late choirmaster.

The room was so very still—everything had gone still. Kurt sighed and looked around the room much in the same way Blaine had done. "You know…I've never really met anyone who ever became what they wanted to be when they were younger. Like you know how kids wanted to be astronauts, or firemen or ballerinas or…fashion editor of Vogue."

He rolled his eyes and Blaine laughed softly. Kurt smiled. "Looks like at least Mr. Harvey got to be what he wanted in high school."

"Yeah…" Blaine gazed at the piano contemplatively. He walked to it quietly, putting his hands on the familiar instrument. He sighed heavily when he sat down and stared ahead as if he was in a daze.

Kurt sat with him, waiting for him to continue. He felt that Blaine had to let this out of system. With his father being the way he was, he must've seen Mr. Harvey as his father here in school. He had looked so much towards music, like Mr. Harvey did. The way the teacher had cared for the boys, it was no wonder that when Kurt had seen the way all the Warblers reacted to their teachers' passing; among those hit the hardest was Blaine.

Blaine shook his head. "…He wanted to show people music. And find family through it." The smile on his face was soft, almost bitter. "Isn't it so terrible? He was just like us. He wanted what any of us wanted. He worked hard to get it. To _help._"

He gestured absently to the abandoned room. "He did something about it...but now he's gone and…all of this." He closed his eyes like he didn't want to see it all disappear. "All of this will be gone with him. All the hopes he's ever had for the Warblers were as much as any of ours." He looked at the boys. "Like any one of the boys' letters in that place."

"They were all like us, you know?" David remarked as he sat down on one of the couches. "All those letters…" he sighed and let his hands drop. "The stuff they said? Those kinds of things are what a lot of us went through."

"Yeah…." Wes nodded, sitting on the arm of the couch where David sat. "Looking at all that, I remember being a Freshman here and hearing all the Seniors talk. Didn't realize that what they were saying weren't just their own experiences. They were..." he shrugged, "...they were passing it down."

Logan stepped into the darkened hall quietly, hands in his pockets. He was among the last of the boys to filter in. He didn't say anything, but he took a spot in the seats as though today was any other ordinary Warbler meeting. He sat lost in thought, and didn't acknowledge the presence of the other Warblers. As though he was the only one there.

Kurt considered him for a moment before he returned his gaze to Blaine, who covered his hands with his. "You know when I first came here, I didn't think I'd get this attached to this place. I mean…"

* * *

_As he was quiet, Kurt's face was pensive, hand resting on his chin lightly. He stared at the light from the windows, and his eyes took in the color of the sky outside. Headmaster Winters waited patiently._

_Finally, he murmured, "As far as I was concerned, high school was always just this stepping stone to Broadway and New York and all the rest of it. I went through enough stuff in McKinley to make secondary education lose its appeal, you know? Being thrown into lockers…getting slushies thrown at my face over and over…being picked on because I was gay, because I liked to sing, because I wore the clothes I did…."_

_He swallowed a little. "…And the death threat…having to live in fear just because I was different. It was just something I had to endure. I had to endure secondary education and it felt like enduring a really really long tunnel that you can't wait to see the light out of. You can't wait for things to change and just be…not here."_

_Another pause. From off camera, Headmaster Winters said, "And now...?"_

_Kurt's turned his eyes towards him. "But…being here…changed my idea of it a little."_

* * *

Kurt smiled faintly. "I thought it was something I'd have to endure. And survive. Like I did in McKinley during the worst days."

"And now?" Blaine asked, smiling a little.

"Oh it's still being endured," Kurt's lips quirked into the smallest smirk, and he nodded pointedly to the Twins. "Some people would still have us _endure _everything."

Evan and Ethan only laughed softly from where they sat on one of the tables. They smiled as though this really was their goal. "Well…maybe we tried to make it more interesting."

Logan snorted a little in derision from his seat at that. Reed, sitting on the carpet, looked at him at the sound.

"It's not that...daunting anymore," Kurt murmured, leaning against Blaine. He looked around the room and sighed, before he closed his eyes. "...it's _leaving_ here that's daunting now."

The Warblers looked at the room they spent so much time in. It's like if they listened hard enough, the echoes of music that fell onto these walls for generations could still sound back. Nick and Jeff began to take some of the books off the shelves—pages filled with the faces and adventures of old Warblers. The two of them smiled faintly at each other, thinking they would leave a memory like this here one day.

Blaine stared at the music sheets on the stand at the piano. In a very familiar script, someone had written, _Let the boys try this one._ It made Blaine smile. He thought of the days when he'd see his two choir teachers go through page after page of music sheets, taking music they thought the boys would like, and occasionally suggesting it to them. Often, they let the boys choose.

They had been working on this one. It was supposed to be part of the lineup of songs they were picking through for competition. They'd never quite gotten it as perfect as they all wanted. It felt like they never would get that chance.

"Man, we can't leave this place..." Wes whispered, making everyone look at him. He was staring at the room like he was trying to memorize it. "And I don't just mean Warblers' Hall. I mean...this _school. _This...stupid school."

Charlie shook his head. He sighed. "Here I thought I was gonna graduate here." He picked up a piece of paper that said, _Competition soon! _like it was a reminder. "Just like all those boys in that room did."

"That's what pisses me off the most, you know?" David almost sounded angry. "They were all from _here_. All of them! And what are they doing...? They just _left_."

"They graduated, David, that tends to happen," Derek remarked from the doorway.

"No!" David stood up, pacing. He passed some Hanovers on the floor, pacing. "I mean our _parents_! The _Alumni_! Nearly every guy running this school used to come from here, their faces are all over that hall, you all saw it. Their letters were in those shelves, their pictures, their..._memories_!"

Blaine sighed and shook his head. "And now they're all out there...agreeing to close the school down, or just about to."

"They went through everything that we did..." Reed said plaintively, putting his face in his hands. "Those letters... They sounded they were coming from a place that understood us so _well_..."

"What this school did for us, it did for them too, didn't it...?" Spencer muttered from where he was sitting next to Justin. The look on his face was a mixture of so many things. "It's either they forgot or...they don't care. Isn't that the worst?"

Blaine murmured softly, "This is our place. ...Sanctuary. When it felt like no one..." he glanced at Logan in spite of himself, remembering those times when they had clashed, from rage that came from well beyond whatever had happened between them, "...no one wanted us."

Kurt lifted his eyes to the blond Warbler who had been silent on the couch. As if sensing that he was being stared at, Logan met his gaze. After a moment of confusion, the taller boy frowned. When Blaine also glanced to him, Logan muttered, "Sorry, I don't feel like throwing out there every emotional turmoil I've got going. Especially when you've all been already party to my extremely colorful history."

"Logan, we're kind of not here to judge you," Kurt replied, rolling his eyes a little in spite of his own resistance. "If you haven't noticed."

"Then what _are_ we here for? What is the _point_?!" Logan threw the papers in his hands onto the ground. "What is the point of all this?"

Charlie rose to try and stop him, but Justin, who knew all too well when anger was true rage, and when it was the safety valve, grabbed his wrist and held him back. The two stared at their fellow Prefect, who continued to fume.

Logan gestured around to the boys that filled the room, many of whom staring at him, aghast. "We all ran here like scared rodents because we can't take the fact that everything is falling apart!" Logan snarled. "That because in spite of everything we just saw in that creepy stupid archive hall—that in spite of whatever the stuff they wrote in those letters and left behind for us to find—they're still the ones who ended up deciding to end it all. End it for the rest of us!"

The tall boy got to his feet and threw the music sheets to the ground just because he had nothing else inanimate to take his rage out on. The Warblers stared at him, in varying degrees of confusion and curiosity. "I thought maybe, just an off-chance, really, they weren't _stupid_ enough to think that this was all something they could sweep under the rug like it didn't mean anything. Just because they seem to have chosen to overlook that fact, doesn't mean they have to take it out on the rest of us like they always do and—"

He stopped. He had to stop to catch his breath and by then, Blaine had sighed and gotten up, standing behind him. Although every Stuart Warbler informed Blaine with their unsettled gazes that they didn't think it was a very good idea, Blaine nevertheless carefully put a hand between Logan's shoulder blades.

Kurt watched as that one action seemed to cause Logan to drain immediately, the tension flooding out of his shoulders. The taller boy exhaled harshly and pressed his fingers to the bridge of his nose, looking frustrated. "...God, I don't even know why the hell I'm so angry right now," he muttered under his breath, sounding almost plaintive under the tension.

The sudden diffusion seemed to almost make some of the Warblers smile sadly.

"I didn't even use to _like_ this place," Logan added, falling back down into his seat next to Derek and rubbing his face with his hands; Blaine patted his shoulder a little before he walked on back towards where Kurt sat.

Kurt glanced back up at him with a small smile. "Well, I think we've all gone to depend on this place more than we'd all like to care to admit."

"Because it was safe here." The sudden remark from Dwight made them stare. He was looking at the wall like it was the most interesting thing in the world, and when he had spoken, it sounded like he was talking to himself. "We were all...supposed to be safe here. It's why some of the guys came...for sanctuary. It wasn't just the zero-tolerance policy. Something else. I don't know what it is."

His dark eyes met Kurt's, and the older boy looked away as though Dwight had pointed him out in particular. He knew precisely what Dwight meant. He did come here for the policy. A lot of them did—not just him and Blaine, and their histories that nearly everyone knew about at that point. There were many who came here, for one reason or another, seeking sanctuary. But they stayed for something else. Something that all the other boys understood.

Something that bridged all the boys together from House to House, making up a small world that they had come to depend on. Kurt closed his hand over Blaine's on the piano bench, unseen. Blaine squeezed it back, and Kurt couldn't tell if he was taking warmth or imparting it to him. When he saw Reed close his eyes and fold over to lean on his own knees, Kurt thought he could feel that bridge starting to crumble around them.

There was a sudden sob that made them all look up.

Danny was pressed against the wall near the window, almost invisible in the dark, and his hands were covering his mouth, as though he had tried with all his might to have not let out that sound. Nick and Jeff were near him, clearly having noticed him first and had been trying to help him. Before any of the others could ask, Danny tried to speak but all that came out was another strangled sob—his eyes were scarlet, tears streaming down his face.

Wes leaped to his feet—he was rushing over just as Danny finally managed to speak.

"I…." Danny's first word came out as a cough, his face crumpled in misery. "...This place is…." He took a broken breath and Wes had his arm around him, trying to calm him. None of the Warblers in that room except for the Wes had ever seen Danny look like that.

Kurt made to rise from his chair, but Wes shot him a look and shook his head, whispering, "No," and a little more firmly, "no."

Danny tried to cover his flushed face with his hands and his voice cracked. "...They'll send me back home… I don't want to go back there…I don't, please, I—there's nothing left there…. My parents don't even—they don't even _want _me, they don't even ever think about—" he took a gasp. "This the only place I ever—"

"Danny, stop," Wes begged, trying to get his old roommate to start breathing properly again. His hands trembled, finely, less obviously than Danny's. "Danny, come on man, you have to breathe."

Dissolving into sobs, Danny shook his head. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to do this, I wasn't supposed to cry, I just—" He raised his bloodshot, streaming green eyes, haunted in the dim light, desperate, to all the boys in the room who stared at him.

"...I'm not anyone's important son."

Logan blinked and Spencer raised his eyes as Justin shook his head.

"I'm not going to be valedictorian or even close."

David tried to say something, but lost his words at the last minute.

"I'm not captain of a team."

Derek lowered his eyes.

"I'm not even a lead singer…or a person who came here to start somewhere new and better, or both."

Blaine and Kurt glanced at each other.

"...And I am not Legacy. I'm in this school because...because it was convenient to be near and far enough to keep me out of the way—"

"_Danny_," Wes grasped his arms, staring.

Danny locked eyes with each of the boys as he swallowed. "But this is the only place I can...I feel _home_…" He squeezed his eyes shut, leaning against Wes. "Please...please tell me this isn't the end. Because...there is literally _nowhere_ else. I want to believe there is. But right now...there's just nowhere else safe."

Silence fell again, heavier than before.

"Oh fuck it." Justin tore away from where he was and went over to him. When he looked to the others, he looked more to the Warblers, the paragons, the ones everyone looked up to and believed in more often than they did even prefects. "Is this it, boys?" he asked as he squeezed Danny's shoulder. "Is he right? Because...because this isn't how I ever thought we'd…"

The Warblers, the Dalton boys, they looked disgusted. As though unable to believe this was even happening, and how helpless they all were at last. That in the face of everything, in spite of all their posturing, everything they have done...it would be all over at the signing of a paper happening somewhere out there tonight.

And after that, the safe haven was gone.

"...This place was supposed to be safe." Kurt breathed, feeling cold, arms wrapped around himself and clearly seeing so much in the hall beyond what the first gaze would present. It was supposed to be safe. The first day he set foot in this very room...was one of the first times he had felt safe for quite awhile.

The way Blaine gazed at the keys of the piano suggested that he might have wanted to press a few of them, but couldn't bring himself to. "Makes you think, doesn't it? ...About how many boys actually found a safe place here." He glanced to the others, who studied him as though waiting. "We were lucky enough to have found it. ...I know not very many people manage to. Find a place I mean, where they felt..." and he rested his hands on the ivory. "…safe."

He lifted his eyes, saw Kurt watching him, as though in silent approval.

In times so grave, they still had music. The one thing Mr. Harvey had always told them to look to, to soothe them, to guide them. To help them survive the siege that raged around them.

Kurt reached out and touched his hand. Blaine met his eyes and nodded to the sheets on the stand. Logan watched them shift, as Blaine made space, and allowed Kurt to play.

When Kurt pressed the first key, all the Warblers looked up, called by the sound that rippled through the room. All eyes remained on the two boys who had, for so long, been two of their most driven members, lead singers, and most of all, closest friends.

Kurt played a some notes, so reminiscent of the way Ms. Medel does it, to let them know, and as recollection dawned on each boy, Blaine began to sing.

_I walked across an empty land_

_I knew the pathway like the back of my hand..._

_I felt the earth beneath my feet_

_Sat by the river and it made me complete..._

At the second line, the Warblers began to join him. Some got up and moved closer, drawn to the sound. Others remained where they sat, but all eyes remained on the two boys at the piano.

The song began to rise, and all the Dalton boys, who had been in the hallways, those who weren't Warblers—they crept a little further into the room, drawn to the sound of the boys whose music seemed to always shut down the whole school.

_Oh simple thing, where have you gone?_

_I'm getting old and I need something to rely on..._

_So tell me when you're gonna let me in_

_I'm getting tired and I need somewhere to begin..._

"Hurry…" came Satoru's soft whisper, barely even a sound, into a small microphone. He pulled the wire closer to his friend Drew, who was singing. Drew nodded with a small smile, keeping it closer to the Warblers.

And from where he was sitting, back in Windsor, Han's hands flew over his keyboard, and he swiped at the touchscreen of his monitors, light glinting off his glasses.

There was the almost audible hum of a connection being made. Power came on through the PA system, all throughout the school. One sound reigned through the somber murmuring in Dalton Academy: The Warblers.

_I came across a fallen tree_

_I felt the branches of it looking at me_

_Is this the place we used to love?_

_Is this the place that I've been dreaming of?_

Heads looked up from everywhere they were. Windsors stopped their errands in the house and gathered at the front hall, looking up at the sound from the PA system, where they could hear Blaine, Kurt and their Warblers friends so clearly.

Stuart House fell quiet and they set down their books, staring up at the speakers above them, and gathering around it. Hanover House, which had been notably subdued, now raised their eyes to the speakers as well. Small smiles graced their faces.

Even the Day Students stopped, smiling, as they heard the voices over the PA system, and they rose from where they were waiting in the courtyard, moving towards South and Main.

It sounded like hope, in its faintest thread.

_Oh simple thing, where have you gone?_

_I'm getting old and I need something to rely on_

_So tell me when you're gonna let me in_

_I'm getting tired and I need somewhere to begin_

The Warblers looked to each other as they moved closer to the piano and to the music, their voices gaining more strength, as more and more boys crowded into the room transfixed.

Blaine's eyes met Kurt's and he smiled and found that smile returned. He reached out and open palm to him, looking for strength in him. As Kurt, drawing courage from him, closed his own palm over Blaine's, Logan quietly slipped into where he had been sitting, seamlessly continuing the melody. He stared at the piano keys like they were the only thing that made sense anymore. Maybe to him, it was true.

Blaine pulled Kurt up, bringing him to the rest of the Warblers surrounding the piano, all of them singing.

_And if you have a minute, why don't we go_

_Talk about it somewhere only we know?_

_This could be the end of everything_

_So why don't we go somewhere only we know?_

_Somewhere only we know_

Kurt smiled as he looked around at the boys around him, singing with them, their voices rising and filling the room, spilling out into the hallway and echoing. It was filling up the sad silence that had reigned over the empty schoolrooms, the portraits, and even of the boys who, in their disappointment, could not find the words to express it.

The Warblers sang their words for them.

_Oh simple thing, where have you gone?_

_I'm getting old and I need something to rely on_

_So tell me when you're gonna let me in_

_I'm getting tired and I need somewhere to begin_

_And if you have a minute, why don't we go_

_Talk about it somewhere only we know?_

_This could be the end of everything_

_So why don't we go? So why don't we go?_

The boys of Dalton Academy, now filling every corner, other looking up at the speakers over the grassy grounds, now looked at each other as the Warblers continued to sing. There were sad smiles on their faces; some of them were joining hands with friends. They had come from all over the country, some even from different nations, and this school had brought them together. They had thought they still had so much time.

They looked to the Warblers, knowing that this could be the last time they would hear them sing together this way.

One last performance to bring the whole school together.

_Oh, this could be the end of everything_

_So why don't we go somewhere only we know?_

_Somewhere only we know…_

_Somewhere only we know…_

As the music faded away, Logan's hands going still on the keys, a soft murmur of appreciation replaced it. Kurt looked to Blaine with a small smile, one that Blaine seemed unable to return. The dark-haired boy only squeezed his hand in his.

Kurt turned his eyes to the other Warblers, who seemed to appear lost. As though now that this one song had ended, they no longer knew what to do with themselves. It was all over.

It amazed Kurt to see that even the Twins—the ones who could be stopped by nothing—had fallen silent, hands linked, staring at the same spot. When they noticed him looking, they nodded to him in silent gratitude.

He gave them a puzzled expression in return, not sure what they were thanking him for.

"For the goodbye," one replied as the other nodded.

But Kurt only shook his head. This wasn't the goodbye he wanted; it wasn't one any of them wanted. It was so strange to see them all so silent. Jeff put an arm around Nick and tried to comfort him. Wes and David nudged Danny and gestured for him to step off the formation with them in silence. The prefects who were seated could not look up from the floor.

The Warblers broke off, carefully, from their formation, scattering into the music room. He and Blaine remained standing where they had been from the beginning.

And it was the sight of all that resignation all around him, in all of these boys' faces—the boys that he'd come to think of as his family away from home—that made Kurt realize….

* * *

_From where he had been writing a note, Headmaster Winters looked up and found Kurt sitting before the video camera, lost in thought, a small smile ghosting on his face. The headmaster set his pen down. "It made you realize what, Mr. Hummel?" he asked gently._

_The boy's eyes looked bright when they glanced to him for the briefest instant. "I'm sorry?"_

"_You said that it was at that moment when you realized…?"_

_A small laugh escaped Kurt's lips, and his eyes glanced briefly to the camera, knowing that it captured every word and movement he made. Winters kept watching him, waiting to hear what it was that brought everything to a head. _

_So Kurt crossed his legs and leaned to the headmaster, with every air of someone sharing a secret. "It was a very important moment for me, Mr. Winters. Because you see, when I make my mind up to do something—and this my father will agree to be true—I do it the whole way."_

"_I see…" Winters leaned back with a small smile. "And…what did you make your mind up about then, Mr. Hummel?"_

_Kurt's glance flicked towards the oak doors, where he knew the others waited, waiting to see if he would tell the Headmaster absolutely everything._

* * *

That made Kurt realize…

…he wasn't going down like this.

"…Is this really it?"

The other boys looked at the sudden clarity of his voice. Kurt stared at each and every boy he knew until they had to meet his gaze. "This. All this. This is it. This is what mighty Windsor House is reduced to."

He flicked a hand out and nearly smacked Thad on the nose. "And Stuart." He waved towards Justin and Spencer, who dropped their chins immediately. "And Hanover. This is actually it. It's over? Everything in that hall that we just came from—all of it's for nothing?"

Wes stared at Kurt like he grew green skin. "It's not like that, you know after everything that happened—"

"Oh believe me, I know." Kurt raised a delicately groomed eyebrow. "I was in the third floor. I know what happened."

Instant silence. Blaine considered saying something, went through what he was going to say again, and wisely reconsidered.

Charlie was next to attempt, but he only dropped his hand with a sigh. David looked at Kurt as though trying to plead with him. "We don't want this either, you know? I mean, it sucks. It's really a weapons-grade suckfest here and we know where you're coming from, but…"

"Oh I want to hear this," Kurt replied patiently, waiting to hear it.

David visibly deflated. He looked ashamed. And as a Legacy, Kurt figured he absolutely was.

Grumbling, Derek rolled his eyes, arms crossed. He was another Legacy, and he was obviously not thrilled with the situation, but had lived too long in the whims of those who controlled tradition to really do anything apart from it. "It's not like you can do anything either, Hummel."

"I won't know until I try," Kurt replied coolly. "I figured the rest of you might be interested considering _no one actually wants to leave_."

"You talk big but you don't even know how you're going to fix this!" Derek shot back. "We are hopelessly overpowered by our parents!"

"Would you shut up, Derek, at least Kurt's trying!" Spencer shot back. "You're the one who wants to just give up already!"

"That's big talk coming from you too, Spencer, since all you ever do is roll over and take what your old man throws at you!" Derek snarled, jabbing a hand to his chest. "You don't even have the guts to tell him you want to go to some art school!"

"And _you_? You're the one who practically faints when you don't have grades high enough to please your parents!"

An argument began to bubble up between a lot of people in the vicinity. It was rising in volume, and a lot of the other boys uninvolved were getting unsettled.

"Guys," Charlie said loudly. "Listen!"

It went unheard. Everyone was talking now, looking at each other and voices rising.

"Guys!" Charlie repeated impatiently.

The uproar rose. People were getting on their feet, some downright squabbling between a few Windsors and Stuarts who couldn't agree. Even the Hanovers and day students were getting in on it, everyone trying to get a word in. Kurt winced at the caucus, barely able to understand what anyone was even saying.

There was a powerful crash of metal onto the marble flooring and everyone silenced, looking up. Justin stood, glaring, having picked up a spear from one of the decorative suits of armor and slamming it to the ground. "_Listen_, we said!" he snarled, and Hanovers winced.

"God, this is kangaroo court..." Bailey muttered under his breath as he sank into his seat, dragging a hand down his face.

Charlie glared. "Everyone _shut up_! This isn't the time to be arguing. Our problem isn't each other—it's the people who've forced their decisions on us!"

"Kurt's right," Justin added, frowning. "We won't know a damn thing until we try. And sure, it's probably a long shot, but…it's better than rolling over."

"I just don't want all of us to end up like _this_," Kurt said, gesturing to the previous squabble. "This is exactly the problem. We can't fall apart now. We need each other to get through it."

"He…" Blaine smiled a little shaking his head. In his hand, he had Harvey's letter. "…He has a point, guys." And now he looked to the Twins. "What about you two? Your faces look just like the ones on the walls. Your family and this place? It's been tied together since it began."

"And you said," Kurt added, looking at the twins, "that above all else, you were told to look after it and everyone in it."

All eyes turned to the Brightmans now, standing before Kurt and Blaine. The identical boys looked at each other, and then at the other two, and looked uncomfortable. "It's just..." one of them breathed out, no one was sure which. "No. Who we're up against this time…."

The other twin shook his head. "Even our _dad_ agreed to do this. You can't…_we can't_…prank our way out of that or sneak around it or whatever."

"And after what happened…" penetrating blue eyes pierced into Kurt and Blaine. "It just… It just can't be done, not after that kind of negligence. The two of you could've died up there, you know? And Reed. And Logan. And we still don't know if Julian will—"

They stopped when Bailey made a swift cutting motion across his neck to shut them up, because Logan's hands were clenched and shaking over the piano keys. Derek leaned into his own fist so hard, he looked like he was punching himself.

The Twins sighed. "Yeah. It's just...this is something even _we_ can't fix. And considering the kind of stuff we could do…that's saying something. It can't be done." Their expressions were crushed. "Just…not possible. Horrible as it is…it…just isn't."

Not one of the other Dalton boys could look at Kurt now, even as he swept his gaze over them—so many of them in this hall right at this moment. And this, Kurt decided, was why he had to do it.

"…Six impossible things."

Windsors looked up. "…What?"

Kurt let out his breath, and kept his head held up, determined. "...before breakfast, you're supposed to believe...as many as six impossible things. Right?" He looked at his watch. "The school doesn't officially go down until all the board and the parents get here tomorrow morning." He looked out at all of them again.

Blaine began to smile a little. "…That's a long headstart to get believing in impossible things."

Kurt smiled at him before looking to the others. "Sure, I'm technically the new guy here. But you guys made me a part of this group and of this school. And I for one, am not leaving Wonderland without a fight. I don't give up unless I have a really good reason to let something go. …And this school, I think, for all of you? Is the thing we can't let go."

A soft murmuring started to rise. The Twins, who had begun to smile, gave each other a glance before saying, "…that's a very clever idea, Alice."

To which Kurt only shrugged a little demurely. Of course it was. "We've already gotten this far. Everyone that had come and gone from this school left something in it that made it what it is now. We can't turn back now, we've built too much. I've made history here too, and I'm not backing out of all of that. I'll fall all the way down." He let out his breath. "But I know I can't do it alone. I need to know you guys want this too. Do you? All of you?"

The last question addressed the entire room, and the halls filled with the murmuring of boys. Blaine reached out and clasped Kurt's hand in his. "I'm with you," he nodded, taking and imparting strength. "All the way. Whatever it is we have to do." And Kurt smiled.

"Oh hell…" Charlie sighed, a small smile on his face as he leaned back on the couch. "It's not the craziest thing we've ever done, really, is it?" Justin laughed and shook his head.

"Well…we broke into South and Main, we're in trouble enough as it is…" Wes added, smiling a bit.

"But guys…" Reed asked meekly, eyes wide as boys started to crowd into the music hall again, wanting to hear more, "How are we even going to do this? I mean…what can we actually do right now? We have just one night to change the minds of people who've planned this for a week. Maybe more. And they're tough to negotiate with."

"Yeah…" Bailey looked unsure. "That's why they sent us all here tonight to get everything, so we'd all be gone by tomorrow like they want."

"Well…" and with the look in their eyes, Kurt knew that the Twins were formulating a plan, "…if they want us _that _much…."

Blaine grinned. "…They'll just have to come in and get us, won't they?"

* * *

"_And…that was when you came up with the idea?" Winters' mouth twitched, like he was trying to hide a smile._

_Blaine smiled serenely at the camera. "I certainly can't say it was my idea, Headmaster. It seemed like it was everyone's idea."_

"_Everyone's? The Warblers?"_

"_Oh, not just the Warblers. It was definitely __**everyone's**__…"_

_Headmaster Winters now leaned on his chair and studied Blaine—his eyes were almost affectionate. "Mr. Anderson, when we arrived to see what you and the other boys had done…. You mean to say that you all had done it within in a single night of planning and execution?"_

"_We're very resourceful, Headmaster. Dalton's educational system is wonderful, even if the security sucks."_

* * *

Kurt casually wrote the words _Phase One_ onto a nearby whiteboard that subsequently got dragged away by some very enthusiastic Dalton boys.

"Oh man, oh _man_, oh man…" Dwight was fussing and fidgeting on the grass outside Windsor and he was ripping up a wilted flower in his hands. "If I could count the ways how this is such a freaking _bad idea_…"

"Dwight! Stop bouncing on your heels and come help!" Charlie barked as he and the Twins were hauling what looked like a massive dresser out of Windsor's doors. It was so big and still so full of stuff that they nearly dropped it with its weight. "Ow! Geez!"

"That is an antique!" Dwight practically yelled. "It's probably cursed! And while we're at it, that is _mahogany_!"

"Whatever, Trinket, just stop fussing and hold these." Todd shoved a mantel clock into Dwight's arms and piled books after it. He grabbed the leather strap attached to huge trunk and leashed Dwight to it like he was a sled dog. "Come on, move this stuff out, hurry!"

Grumbling, the other boy towed the trunk away as Drew and Satoru flew past carrying all sorts of heavy equipment.

"That dresser is going to make an _amazing_ foundation bit," Reed grinned as he watched it go.

"Oh man…" David looked around at all the boys of Windsor running to and fro, hauling luggage and furniture out of their houses at great speed, the complete opposite to a couple or so hours ago when nobody _wanted _to get their things out. "I think I gotta go with Dwight on this one, this is serious."

"Playing it safe never won anyone a Tony," Kurt bristled.

Blaine jogged up to him, flushed and breathless and with the reckless courage of the damned. "Hey. Stuart House is already hauling their stuff out. Got word from Hanover that they're doing the same. But I don't know if it's going to be enough."

"How'd it go?" Reed asked, curious, as Wes skidded to a stop next to the small pack standing just outside of Windsor.

"We did it!" Wes grinned, grinning like a maniac at the conspirators around him. "It's all set. It was a lot of talking but we did it. Message has been passed."

"Well, the parents all think they're being very kind to us," Reed told them, looking only a little bit ashamed that he had lied so convincingly. "That we all were sentimental and emotional and wanted to just have one last sleepover on campus in a big bonding experience before it all closed down and we all go our separate ways."

"There's no way Senator Wright would've bought that," Kurt raised an eyebrow.

To which Logan—who had been passing by—only replied, "I told him I was staying over and he can do nothing about it. That ends the matter."

Blaine grinned. "Well, a lot of misinformation had to be spread. They think we're safe." He lifted an obnoxiously blue-colored walkie talkie. "Hey Caterpillar. Was it all done?"

The walkie crackled. "_Well, it took some serious effort on my part, you're all welcome, by the way, but I did it. I'd like to thank my team for their stupendous acting. All I had to do was tweak the voices a little bit."_

David grinned. "So all the guards think the other shift is taking this shift. No one is actually around campus. All the teachers have gone to the meeting already, we've told Howard that he had to talk on our behalf as the Windsor Head, same with the Stuarts for Murdoch and Newman for Hanover."

"_Yep. Still keeping an eye on the area, though. Gonna try to draw away anyone who tries to come 'check in' on us, keep watch on the incoming calls. I'm a little worried, Ramsey can smell BS from miles away."_

"But they're all still at the big meeting, right?" Blaine asked worriedly. "No one's going to come surprise us?"

"Didn't we already learn that it's a bad idea when there's no security in this school?" Reed pointed out.

Wes shrugged. "Sort of. Everyone's got cops on speed dial, they're so jumpy. But just to make sure, I asked my family's, uh…personal security have to take position around the streets. It serves as double protection for our side."

"And they went with it?" Kurt stared in surprise. "They listened to you?"

"I can't believe it either. But y'know…those guys love me. They all raised me, joint effort and all."

"Your dad is gonna get so mad when he hears." David shook his head.

"I'm hoping his blind paternal love for me will keep him from strangling me after he finds out what we're all actually doing here, because it sure isn't a sleepover."

* * *

"_And your plan, from what I understand…" Winters smiled, "…was to just…stay in the school."_

"_It wasn't closed yet!" David replied almost defensively. "We thought everyone was fine with letting us stay over one last night and have a sleepover."_

"_We both know that you all went in there with no intentions of a sleepover, Mr. Sullivan." His amused smile made David wonder exactly how much the Headmaster really knew. "This was…the idea that all of you boys came up with?"_

"_We had to do __**something**__. Windsor boys break the boundaries."_

"_Or in this case…" the headmaster chuckled, "…you created one."_

* * *

Kurt studied the steadily growing pile with satisfaction. What amazed him most was how successful they were being. It was solid. "We're making good time."

"It's still not enough," Blaine remarked, standing next to him and staring at the mountain they were creating, "but I think we've become too good at Jenga. That's an amazing height."

"Parkour!" someone yelled, leaping through a tangle of tables, chairs, and over a resin model of a blue whale from the Science Department. There was a crash and the sound of things falling. Laughter sounded.

Windsor's Alice tore away from staring at the growing pile of furniture and luggage, being expertly stacked by people who had obviously watched the movie _300_ way too many times, and asked, "What do you mean not enough?"

"Well, if we drag out everything in Windsor, everything in Hanover, and everything in Stuart, we might be able to fix two of the entrances." There was the sound of soldering from somewhere which was subsequently ignored. "There are four gates. We need more things. And…" he glanced at Kurt. "We need more people."

"Oh." Kurt frowned. Behind him, someone standing on the pile yelled for another chair. It got thrown upwards and Kurt ignored the sound of wood and metal and clanging as smothered laughter erupted. "But…all the Houses are already in. All the faculty and staff have moved out already and are at the meeting, and even I'm not sure we can convince them."

Something that sounded like a vial cracked against something and there was a rapid hissing noise.

"Holy crap dude, what the hell was in that thing?!" Bailey yelled.

"Um..." Drew stared.

"Is that corrosive acid or something?!"

"No...Blair's 16 Million Reserve sauce...?"

"Are you insane?!"

"You guys, I said _nothing lethal!_"

"Not _all_ the Houses are here," Charlie remarked from nearby. How he had produced the nail gun was beyond comprehension, but it did help with their plans. He leveled the boys with a stare, clearly trying to ignore the surrounding madness. "We haven't asked the Day Students."

"Do you _seriously_ think they'll help us?" Wes asked doubtfully. "We're the ones who started this mess in the first place, and the ones who _are_ here are looking at us like we're out of our minds."

Very patiently, Charlie replied as he gestured to unmistakable pile of objects still growing, "Wesley. We. Are. Making. A. _Barricade_. We are literally _barricading_ ourselves within Dalton Academy. Like it says in the rulebook. _Defending against an attack_."

"It's…it's not our regular _brand_ of crazy?" Reed tried, and knew it was a lost cause.

"Do you guys realize what we are?! We are the freaking _barricade boys_, okay?!" Charlie gestured to that ever-growing wall just yards from them. It was hard to tell if he was excited or getting hysterical. Kurt found his prefect's descent to total madness fascinating. "We're actually staging a _revolution_ within Dalton grounds!"

"You can't use _Les Mis_ as a comparison!" Dwight protested.

"Why not?" Kurt stared, scandalized.

"_Because they nearly all died and we just narrowly missed that!_"

"Look." Blaine dragged a hand down his face. "We have four major entrances in this school, one in every cardinal direction, the biggest one being the main gate, which is probably where all the action's going to be. We're going to need every single piece of furniture in this school, every piece of luggage we've got, to make the barricade, and we need a _lot_ of people to line the whole area, including people to watch at that ridiculous rail fence we've got. We need more people. We need help."

There was a beat, and Kurt suddenly murmured, "…Exactly _how many_ more people would you say we need?"

"Well, as many as we can. More people is good, right? People who would…want to support our cause…." David looked around hopefully. "I mean, people would've heard what's happened to us? Maybe we're not the only ones who wouldn't want this place to close."

Kurt started to grin, and he nodded over to the side of the barricade that was starting to grow parallel to the rail fences.

Boys with blue, red, and white badges were hurrying around, dragging even more furniture and their bulky luggage to add to the growing barricade. Not far from this busy movement, a few boys stood, curious and seemingly at a loss on what to do. They wore badges too—the gold-plated "D" of Dalton Academy. They had no luggage in their hands, and carried only expressions of wonder at what the other boys were doing.

Blaine followed his gaze, and realized what Kurt was implying. Then, grinning in a way that was so reminiscent of Shane's own impish manner, he looked to the others. "Alright. Call 'Phase Two' our recruitment."

To which the Brightman twins also looked quite delighted. "Plans?"

Charlie spoke up with a nod, "Alright—Blaine, you take the day boys. They're nice to you; you don't make as much ruckus as the rest of us."

Kurt raised an eyebrow and Wes coughed violently before saying, "I'm sorry, Chaz, what was that you said? Sorry man, I couldn't hear you, there's so much bullshit flying around, could you run that by me again?"

Charlie smacked Wes in the face with a foam mop. "Quiet! I like to live in denial. Anyway, Justin and I will go out of the territory and see what our…neighboring kingdom thinks."

Justin only smiled in return, and added, "We'll take Spencer. He's got some leverage there."

Charlie now turned his eyes to Kurt. "And I think, Kurt, you might ask some old friends to come join us. If they wanted."

With a delicate shrug, Kurt flashed the prefect a smirk. "Well, then—I'll round up the Momeraths."

* * *

_A group of boys sat in front of Winters, fidgeting only slightly, abashed but entirely too pleased with themselves._

"_And it was your influence that drew more troops into the barricade?" Winters spoke calmly, eyeing Kurt, Blaine, Charlie, Justin, and Logan._

_To which Charlie, with the perfect composure of someone who had been in the hot seat so often that it has ceased to make an impression, "We were only trying to see if our cause was worthy enough for others to want to take part of."_

"_It would've made no more difference than if we had a petition up online," Justin added, shrugging._

_The headmaster looked at Blaine. "I was told by Riley Paige that it was you he spoke to, Mr. Anderson."_

"_I was, sir."_

"_And what did you tell him?"_

* * *

"Riley? Blaine Anderson is here to talk to you."

The boy who sat at one of the stone tables just by the terrace of the South and Main was one who Blaine had met more than once. It is in this area that the day students congregated, as they did now, surrounded by packages of books and things. Upon seeing Riley Paige, Blaine had the impression that it was as though he was the highest official in a war room, as all the other day boys surrounded him, asking questions, worried, looking to him for answers.

He had seen Riley whenever there was collateral damage towards the day students during the Windsor-Stuart clashes. He was Blaine's age but seemed older from the way _he_ had such a commanding air over his fellow students without trying. He was protective over the day students, keeping them under his wing and occasionally shooting the culprits a sharp disapproving expression.

His attention settled onto Blaine with surprise. "Hello, Blaine." Riley rose and extended a hand, which Blaine shook. "I assumed you and the other boarders were busy with…well, apparently trapping us all here."

The White Rabbit knew better than to kid around with a dragon—this was why Charlie sent him, after all. "Hello, Riley. It's not all barricaded yet. We can make sure the day students have a way out before we close it all down. Of course…" and here Blaine smiled a little more, "…that is if you _want_ to leave. We were hoping that you and the day students would stay."

"Who might 'we' be?" the stocky teen Blaine recognized as Isaac, from the football team, asked while allowing only a slightly raised eyebrow. "Windsors?"

"Windsors, Stuarts, and Hanovers. Anyone who wants to stay within school grounds."

"Stay…here? It's _closing down_." Terry, the school drama club scriptwriter, stared as though Blaine just proposed skydiving with the Brightmans. "We don't even know what the hell you guys think you're doing. I mean…barricading the school?"

"So this is a siege," a very tall boy with sandy hair looked oddly fascinated, basketball in his hands.

"We can't let them close our school down," Blaine told them fervently, looking around. He wondered if this was how Kurt had felt, facing down the others who didn't even have the will anymore. "Look, I know that we boarding boys haven't exactly given you guys an easy time, but you guys are Dalton boys as much as we are."

"Are we?" the boy with the basketball looked doubtful. "You know, Hummel and the others weren't the only ones that Clavell terrorized. Spooked some of the day boys too when they got too close to Larson. But no one listened to us."

"Colby," Riley spoke in warning, and the other boy just shrugged. Then Riley spoke to Blaine. "You're right, Blaine. We _are_ Dalton boys. And we don't want this place to close down any more than you do."

He considered him for a moment before continuing. "But if we're going to do this with you…I'd like your personal assurance that you boarders will start considering the day students a little more. We're not your 'reserve' forces. We're not your 'extras'. I want to know for a fact that if we all do this, you'll take this up with the House Heads and prefects with me."

"Whoa," Blaine did a double take, startled. "I…I get it, I mean, you guys aren't our anything, and definitely not any less than we are, but what makes you think that I—"

"You're a Warbler." Riley's unsettling green and yellow gaze was intent. "And there's no other group in this school, maybe not even the group of prefects, who have as much sway as the Warblers. And you're their lead singer. One of them anyway." He crossed his arms. "The day students will help save the school, whatever it takes. But I want to know that we'll stand on equal ground once we're done."

He talked like the plan wasn't absolutely insane. He talked like he was a hundred percent sure that they were going to manage it. And Blaine decided that yes, they needed the day students if they all had a conviction like _that_. Blaine extended a hand that Riley readily shook.

"It's a deal," Blaine nodded. Riley nodded somberly, and it was worthy of an allegiance between nations.

Colby laughed, flashing pearly whites. "Alright. Let's help brick up this place."

* * *

"_And it was only the day students," Winters asked, with a completely inappropriate amount of amusement at the entire thing—for a headmaster, at least. "They were the only people you'd directly asked to help you?"_

"_Yes," Blaine replied guilelessly._

_Then the headmaster turned to the prefects. "And you…? Were you responsible for the other groups involved?"_

_Charlie and Justin glanced at each other out of the corner of their eyes. Kurt resisted the urge to smile and failed._

* * *

"What did Lima say?" Charlie muttered as the group hurried over a stretch of immaculately maintained school ground. "You sounded loud on the phone."

"I was trying to be heard over the outrage." Kurt pushed a branch away from his face. "But I believe the reply is positive. I'll hear from them by the time we finished here. …Whatever it is we're doing here."

"Well, this place is not a sister school for nothing…." Justin told him, sounding almost embarrassed to be infiltrating the place in this way. "For some people more than others."

Kurt frowned. "I thought Laura goes to school in London."

"He means me," Spencer told him in a long-suffering, resigned tone that Kurt recognized hearing among those who are prepared to go into their doom. "I have one in here. A sister, I mean."

"And we're going to ask her to get the other Dobry girls to help us?"

"If anyone can, she can," Justin shrugged. "And Charlie's girlfriend."

Kurt turned to his prefect with a suspicious expression. "…Your girlfriend isn't that girl who—"

"—Was screaming and took a golf club to my car before setting it on fire? Yeah no." Charlie shook his head.

"Good, because I've had enough of that kind of hysterics from Tabitha."

Kurt had never set foot into Dobry Hall, and he really had no reason to. He had only ever seen Dalton's "sisters" coming into Dalton Academy for events. While obviously smaller than the boys' school, Dobry looked newer, infinitely better-maintained, and had a sense of constant aesthetic rather than the mishmash of styles that one sees among the buildings in Dalton.

He was surprised to pass only two dormitories on their way to the main building of the school. He had expected a triad like their Dalton brothers, but apparently, Dobry only had Prima House and Royal House, both of which were larger edifices than their Dalton counterparts.

Kurt supposed, as they snuck into the main school building, that if the boys were looking for more recruits into their crazy plan, they would find a considerable number to draw from in here.

They passed a large board in the front hall that was covered in paper stars—it was some kind of 'scoring' system like Harry Potter house points between Prima and Royal—when Kurt began to hear the singing. Surprised, he listened a little more carefully and realized that it was a group of girls, using only their voices.

Very much like the Warblers.

_He had it comin'! He had it comin'! _

_He only had himself to blame!_

_If you'd have been there—_

_If you'd have seen it—_

_I betcha you would have done the same!_

_(Pop! Six! Squish! Uh-uh! Cicero! Lipschitz!)_

The girls were clothed in deep black, all of them, moving in perfect sync with one another, each heeled step echoing on the hardwood floor of the huge practice studio. Two of the girls stood apart from the rest, apparently overseeing how everything went. They were so completely focused on their work that they didn't notice the Dalton boys had stepped in about several yards away.

Kurt marveled at the size of the room; if the Warblers had a space this big to call home, David's backflips would reach all-star cheerleading levels.

_The dirty bum, bum, bum, bum, bum!_

_The dirty bum, bum, bum, bum, bum!_

"This is very dangerous to interrupt, I'd say; the Terpsichores are singing about murdering menfolk," Justin remarked, and received a sharp elbow from Spencer.

"Is your sister in there?" Kurt whispered.

"Yep." Sighing as though it was such a huge burden, Spencer nodded towards the group again, while Charlie watched on with immense pride.

_They had it comin'! They had it comin'!_

_They had it comin' all along!_

_'Cause if they used us and they abused us—_

_How could they tell us that we were wrong?_

"Why do you sound so miserable?" Kurt hissed to Spencer. "They're good! You're not happy your sister's in here?"

"Thrilled. Proud." Spencer just kept watching with a little smile. "She's brilliant. Can do everything, really. That's the problem."

"He just has some self-esteem issues to work through, Kurt," Justin informed him.

Spencer? The hardworking saint of a boyfriend that Merril Portman is so madly in love with? Kurt was incredulous. "Your sister must be quite a piece of work. What's she like? How do you see her, really?"

Spencer considered. "Well…I wouldn't really call her 'girly' in the disney princess sense and I wouldn't really call her a single-minded goal-driven 'balrog'…"

"What would you call her?"

"I'd call her 'ma'am'," Justin answered.

The group—Terpsichores, Justin called them—kept on practicing until Kurt saw the smallest of the girls, a bright-eyed little redhead, catch sight of them from the mirrors, and she immediately stopped, delighted.

"Westwood!" the brunette one from the two who were standing apart suddenly barked, putting a stop to _Cell Block Tango_. "Pay attention, you missed a step again!"

"Sorry!" Kurt was surprised to hear Han's last name attached to the short girl. She pointed to the boys. "We have visitors!"

The pack of girls spotted them from the mirror before they turned around to look at them with no small amount of delight. The blonde girl overseeing the practice immediately dimpled as she moved over to the boys, trying not to appear as though she was actually _running_.

"Charles!" she bloomed under the Windsor prefect's scrutiny and Kurt had to bite back a smirk as his prefect was reduced to the teenage boy that he actually was. "We weren't expecting you!"

"Hello, Hope." It was a pleasant surprise to watch Charlie's IQ plummet at that pretty Southern belle's attentions. He only allowed himself to hold onto her elbows when he lightly kissed her cheek. "Kurt, this is Hope Clayton. Prefect for Prima House and Terpsichore co-captain."

"I know him, Charlie, he's that brilliant singer of yours."

There was a smacking sound of someone punching someone else's arm and Spencer howled, rubbing his shoulder as he glowered mutinously at the tall brunette. "Ow?! Uncalled for?"

"You should've come to us sooner," she shot back, but gave him a big bear hug.

"This is your sister?" Kurt raised an eyebrow.

"This is his twin sister, Sydney Willis, prefect for Royal House and Terpsichore co-captain," Justin replied, smiling, since Spencer was too busy being winded under the crushing hug of his twin sister. The other boy managed a squeak not unlike a rubber duck and his sister released him, clearing her throat. "Sorry. We were wondering why it took you boys so long to come to us, actually." She looked at Justin and extended a hand, but rolled her eyes when Justin took it and bowed instead of shaking it.

"Come to you for…what?" Spencer blinked. "You already know?" He was standing at parade rest, just like she was. They both seemed completely unaware they were doing it.

"Oh now don't be like that," Hope smiled sweetly. "Moment we heard that the men up top were trying to close the school down, we were sure that you boys weren't going down without a fight."

Kurt gave her a strained smile. "Trust me, they still needed some motivation."

"You guys disappoint me," Sydney huffed. "If that were our school, we'd be up in arms the moment they told us to pack."

"Well, hopefully you'd put that same motivation into helping us," Charlie smirked. "Dalton's closing down—but we're going to stay until the end."

Kurt lifted his chin and looked at the two girls with the same determination he'd given the boys. "We need more people to stand with us. We're hoping you girls would consider rounding up a few more troops."

"This is brilliant," the redhead Westwood, ridiculously excited, looking up from what must be a phablet. "My brother says I can help with surveillance and monitoring and intercepting chatter headed our way."

_We might actually stand a chance…_ Kurt realized, amazed.

"Well, if we're going to make it so _official_…" Hope smiled and nodded. "I'll have Lucy and Casey call up all the Primas and tell them to spread word."

"And you, Syd?" Spencer looked at his twin.

"I'll round up the Royals to do the same. I'll make sure Katherine gets sent to David; he'll worry about her if I don't." Sydney nodded.

"We're very grateful," Justin told them, nodding.

"But the question is," Charlie suddenly said, thoughtful, "Is this absolutely enough to make an impression? We have to make a really _really_ big impression if we want to make an impact. That was your plan, wasn't it, Kurt?"

Kurt, who had been looking at his phone to find a text from Blaine, replied, "Blaine's gotten the day students on board. And if my connections in Lima pull through…" he grinned when another message cropped up. "…We'll have more coming in from that way. Wait, hang on." He frowned.

A new message from Han had appeared.

* * *

_Han, who was looking very tidy and extremely uncomfortable with such a clean-pressed uniform, coughed as he read from the tablet._

"_The message I sent to the others at that hour was: 'Message to all: The meeting has officially begun. The school board, with the support of a number of parents—many of whom are Legacies of Dalton Academy—are giving their statements. They are proposing to shut down Dalton Academy in the wake of the terrible events that had happened involving a number of Dalton students being grievously injured by the student Adam Clavell, who had also instigated the fire that resulted in the death of a faculty member, Gregory Harvey. Statements will be heard from those supporting and protesting the closing of Dalton Academy. Decision will be sent to everyone as soon as it arrives.'"_

"_It must have been a dire moment for all of you." The headmaster watched him. "I understand none of you would've been allowed to the meeting. You could not have made your voices heard."_

"_I kept track," Han murmured in reply, pushing his glasses. "I had to. I wanted to stay here, as much as any of them. I…I know I'm not going to college; that's not in my future. So this…all of this? Is all I have left of the time I'll ever be in a school, with friends. I don't want it to end that early."_

"_And you decided that this was how you would all make yourselves heard."_

"_Everyone decided. And the moment we decided it, it felt like…" Han tried to find the words, a little stunned. "…it felt like it was coming together. I had no idea the kind of response we would get."_

* * *

Blaine immediately came running up to Kurt the moment the prefects' group returned from the side gate. "Kurt! Come with me, hurry." His smile was blinding. "There's a bus that just pulled up. I think it's your guests."

Kurt didn't wait. He bolted off with Blaine towards the main gate where a flock of Dalton boys were gathering, trying to get a look. Already, the barricade was high—tall enough that if you were to climb on it, you could vault the high rail that surrounded the school. Boys had clambered up onto it like it was a jungle gym, looking over to the bus that had pulled up just outside the gate. Down below, at the base of the barricade, a small gap was being cleared.

When Kurt saw a familiar red jacket, he couldn't control the smile that split his face. "Finn!"

"Hey!" Finn lit up at the sight of his stepbrother, and he made to move toward him. Unfortunately, the rest of New Directions had the same idea. Rachel charged to Kurt with the same impassioned enthusiasm she had when the girls had to cover for the boys during some football game back in McKinley.

"We're here!" she exclaimed, smile broad and taking a quick sweep of everything around her. "We've spread the word and we're reporting for duty. I'm sure we can help you guys with this…um…." she gestured to the wall. "Well…that."

The Twins were happily helping Brittany climb up the barricade. They looked at Rachel now. "Hey, pretty singing flower! Yes, you, lovely small one! Come join us!"

"Go, please, go," Kurt hurried her off to the barricade, "the more occupied they are, the better control there'll be to their madness until we need their evil—and they think you're pretty."

"Excuse me." Finn gaped.

"Ladies!" Wes materialized and grinned at Mercedes. "This way, please, let's make sure you've got a fine selection of nonlethal weaponry to choose from." She laughed.

"Down, tiger." Kurt rolled his eyes before he grinned up at Finn now. "Thank you, for getting everyone to come."

"Hey, we know how much this school means to you," Finn smiled. "Not that we wouldn't love to have you back, because—you know we do, right? We'd be so happy to have you back, be a team again. But…"

Finn shoved his hands into his pockets and looked around at the ongoing mayhem: boys running to and fro with supplies, some of them still constructing the wall, others just whooping with joy in the excitement of the big adventure. "Looks like you grew into this place. And we'd want you happy wherever you want to be. Oh! And if it means anything, I heard Burt and mom were there at the meeting. They said they'd protest the school closing."

Kurt stared at him, aghast. "Wait—_what_? Dad…he really said that?"

"Yeah, sure, why?" Finn's brow furrowed.

It was Kurt's turn to give him a confused expression. "He said he… Well, when he took me to the hospital to visit…he said he agreed with the school closing. He said that he sent me here to be safe, and the school couldn't do it. He sounded upset." He wrapped his arms around himself, staring at the grass in disbelief. "…That of all things, I thought that was the reason I'd be leaving here."

"Well…." Finn allowed himself a glance at the barricades, a little bit bewildered at the magnitude of it all, but when he returned his attention to Kurt, his eyes were almost fond. "Whatever you said to him must've worked." He made a twitchy kind of double take when he saw Rachel waving at him to get his attention from one of the highest points of the barricade, and she's singing to _One Day More_, urging those around her to join in. "That, and he could probably tell you really like these guys if you were willing to go through all this. Like…_everyday_."

"You get used to it. Now go tell her pipe down a little, we're trying to be _inconspicuous _here." He glowered at Finn.

"You guys gave her a _stage_!" he protested, but was already walking to her.

"Like gasoline to a fire, I know…" Kurt grimaced at himself. "Sorry. That was too soon."

"Well, we're nothing if we can't bounce back…" Blaine remarked, smiling at him. "You look better than you have in days."

"I like it when a plan comes together. Especially if it's my plan." He smiled at his boyfriend. "You know I actually feel a lot like a Windsor now? Hatching plans and having them work beautifully?"

"We don't know how beautifully it'll work until tomorrow," Blaine shook his head. Behind him, someone was setting up that landing pad again. "Or at least until Han gives us what the board has decided. If we're lucky—and I mean really really lucky…we might not have to stage it at all."

Kurt stood with him, and looked to the other boys who were talking and helping one another. He grimaced when he saw Dwight flailing at them to unhand the antique chest. "…I want to say I hope we don't have to, but I have the feeling that the parents we're up against will make it so we'll have to fight. After all…" he glanced at Blaine, "…A lot of them were Dalton boys themselves. You know as well as I do how hardheaded they are."

Blaine grinned. Something not far from them made a flash bang and there was laughter as the prefects told them to cut it out. "It's tradition to be horribly mulish."

"Apparently so."

That was when Danny came running up to them, breathless and desperate. "Guys! Guys!" He plowed right into Reed, who had been walking by, sending the two of them into a heap at Kurt's feet. "Ow! Oh god, I'm so sorry, Reed!"

"Are you kidding, that's the first time in days I've taken a tumble that I didn't do to myself, that's awesome…" the artist grunted.

"You okay?" Shane quickly helped Reed up as the shorter boy dusted his pants.

"Danny, you shouldn't be running like that, you'll rip something open!" Merril told him as the other boys approached, seeing the commotion.

"Guys!" Danny got back to his feet, panting, as the Windsors started to approach. "The West exit."

"_You've got company_," Han continued from the walkies. "_They didn't come in sending texts or whatever, I didn't see them until the street cams did. A flock of them. Coming your way._"

"Who?" Blaine asked, perplexed and alarmed.

"See for yourself," Danny replied, and he looked almost amazed.

* * *

_After one of those long pauses they had to endure in that waiting room, with only the sound of the secretary's typing in the distance, Wes finally looked at the others._

"_Did you have any idea that they would—"_

"_Nope," David shook his head._

"…_I mean, can you believe they __**actually**__—"_

"_Nope," Blaine also shook his head, looking stunned._

_Wes paused. "…do you think they'll ever—"_

"_We are __**never**__ going to see that happening again," the Twins replied firmly._

* * *

It was already dark. A fog had settled beyond the school grounds, turning the landscape past the West gate into a horror movie scene. It was cold, dimly lit, with the beams of the flashlights and lamps shooting rays.

The Dalton boys crept out of the West gate in a file, one at a time, going into the brush that led to the woods that were not far from the school. It was a path that led to virtually nowhere, until you emerge past the woods and back into where it will inevitably lead you back to civilization, but there really had been no need for anyone to use this route—especially not at night, in the cold.

Which was another reason this was all the more amazing.

The Dalton boys stared as a huge group of students, well over a hundred of them, were gathered fifty feet away from the West gate. Majority of them were unfamiliar, shifting uncomfortably in the chill and awkwardly not meeting many of the boys' gazes—as though it physically pained them to actually _be_ there. In front of their group was a flock of girls, jackets of the green and white over the flimsy material of their cheerleading uniforms.

Kurt's jaw dropped when he realized: the girls were the Banshees. And as for Blaine, he was stunned to realize that the fleet of boys with them, in similar green and white-trimmed lettermans, were the St. Patrick Lions.

"What the _hell_…." Wes managed to say once he'd overcome the initial shock of seeing the group there.

A bark of stunned laughter escaped David when he stared at their sporting archrivals. "What are _you_ guys doing here?"

Margot Weller rolled her eyes as though the Dalton boys were simply too stupid to live, and shoved her hands into the pockets of her jacket. "Oh dear _god_, I'm starting to change my mind."

"Well _you_ were the one who brought it up," a boy in a letterman jacket shot back. He looked as though he couldn't believe he was doing this, but he began to walk ahead towards the Dalton boys. "Hey! Kings! We want to talk to you."

"Oh god," grumbled Derek. "It's the mating call of the 'Great Woolly Douchebag'. Quick, kick it in the balls and run."

"Oh you mean as opposed to your species, the 'Common Cheating Dirtbag'?" Casey leveled a stare at him, and Derek fell quiet.

Immediately, the Dalton Kings and the Warblers moved up to the front of the ranks to meet them. The battle line drawn between the two schools was there, but the gap shrank considerably. Blaine, Wes, and David pushed their way to the front, so they were now facing Hal Malachowski, the team captain of the Lions.

"Hal," Wes nodded to him.

"Wesley." The other boy coughed.

The Kings nodded to the Lions, all familiar to them after repeated clashing on sporting arenas. Blaine noticed that the day boys, particularly Riley, also nodded to a boy over the other line, the one with 'Gallagher' on his jacket. The atmosphere was a familiar one to everyone, then.

Hal coughed again to get their attention. "Well. A couple of the cheerleaders and a bunch of other guys said they heard something about your school."

"That it nearly blew up? Who hasn't heard?" Wes eyed them suspiciously. His eyes landed on Tabitha, and she cringed, turning her gaze away, staying close to her Banshee sisters. She also must've heard, from Derek.

Derek who was standing next to Casey, who had arrived with the Terpsichores. Wes looked at Blaine with an expression that asked him to explain the complexities of teenage dating. Blaine ignored him.

"Yeah, we heard about it," Hal nodded, and he looked annoyed. "Then they said that your school was closing down. What the hell?! Couldn't they just arrest the guy?"

"Isn't this good news for you guys?" Blaine asked, confused. "You guys hate us. And we always butt heads during tournaments. And your cheerleaders confess to distracting our guys on the field on purpose!"

"It's not our fault you boys don't think using the head that's on your shoulders," Margot replied coolly. "We just use it to our strategic advantage."

"Whoa—" Wes made sure none of the other boys would retort to that, before moving forward. "What do you want, Malachowski?"

"I was getting to that." Hal shot Margot a look—she made a face at him in answer—before facing Blaine again. "…well, some guys back in St. Patrick have friends from other schools, they said that you guys were rounding up people to help you stay in here. That you were going to stay in the school, try to convince them not to close it or something. And…well…we thought…."

He trailed off, furiously glowering at the grass like it mortally offended his entire family and his dog. Kurt stared in amazement. "You guys…decided to come help us? You? Really?"

"Hey." Hal jabbed a finger towards Wes. "We're only doing this because of the tournament. Without your team to mess with, the entire tourney's gonna be a wash out. We'd get accused of steroids, we'd kick ass too hard."

"We beat you guys pretty soundly this year," David raised an eyebrow, smirking.

"Yeah well, that was like _one time_!" Hal protested, crimson with humiliation. But behind him, the Lions looked pleased, and so did the Banshees. "You may have the championship now, but we want it back, and we're _getting _it back! You guys don't get to waltz off into the sunset undefeated! We're going to _crush_ you guys, you hear me? Even in fencing, Anderson, wipe that smirk off your face!"

"I like this," Shane grinned as Reed elbowed him.

Blaine shook his head with a laugh, the Dalton boys starting to smile in spite of themselves. "So you're only doing this—you're only helping us—just for the trophy for next year. Right?"

"Right!" Hal yelled.

The cheerleader next to Tabitha snorted. "Speak for yourself, Malachowski. My boyfriend's in that school, I want to keep him."

All the Banshees turned and stared at her, agape. "_What_."

The cheerleader raised an eyebrow at them and simply shrugged in response. She turned towards the Dalton boys and waggled her fingers at them with a cheeky smirk. And to everyone's surprise, Thad waved back, flushed a little, and grinned.

"What the _hell_." Derek gaped at him along with the Stuarts.

Thad only gave them a shrug that asked, "What?" in return.

And then one of the football players—'Gallagher'—cleared his throat and piped up, "Same, my boyfriend's here too, so…" He waved.

The Dalton boys gaped at him. All except Nicky of Hanover—not to be confused with Nick of Stuart, Jeff's friend, as Kurt had to remind himself—who turned crimson but nevertheless waved with a shy smile. The Hanovers stared at him as Kurt tried to choke back a completely inappropriate burst of laughter.

"What…?" Nicky hissed, flushed.

Riley Paige dropped his face into his hand.

Hal turned to his player with a flailing "_what the hell_" expression, completely astonished. "What—you're—?! And with the _enemy—_?!"

To which Gallagher only rolled his eyes. "You didn't know? Everyone knows."

"Everyone does _not_!" Hal shot back, flustered.

That was when the whole team _and_ the Banshees just rolled their eyes at him with an impatient chorus of, "Yes, of course we know"s and "do you live under a rock"s.

Blaine had to hide his face into Kurt's shoulder for a moment, shaking with suppressed laughter.

"Oh my _go—" _Hal whirled around and dragged a hand down his face in a manner that all the Dalton prefects sympathized all too strongly with. "Alright, _alright_! Fine! Whatever!" He looked to the Dalton boys with the reckless expression of the damned. "Are we gonna do this or what?!"

"Yes!" the Twins grinned, enjoying every moment.

"Welcome aboard." Blaine extended a hand to them, and Hal shook it somberly. The team captain nodded to the contingent of St. Patrick students, and everyone headed back through the West gate.

* * *

_They were waiting for Blaine to emerge from the Headmasters' office when the Twins looked to Kurt. "We—we really should apologize."_

"_For what?" Kurt responded, perplexed._

"_The um…the night before the siege." They watched him carefully. "We should've been more mindful of how you would feel. Everybody wanted some kind of bonfire party, but—"_

_Kurt cut them off immediately, waving the concern away. "No. No, that's…. Sure, it'll take awhile for Reed and I to ever really want to get close to bonfire parties or anything…and I'm positive I'll stay away from Fourth of July fireworks madness, but that's just common sense given Windsor's propensity for…flammables." He gave them a wan smile._

"_We didn't mean to be insensitive."_

"_You weren't," Kurt assured them. "I'm not delicate. I won't flinch at every flame—we live in the twenty-first century, there's going to be one at every corner. Besides I've seen what an out-of-control inferno looks like, and trust me, lighting stoves and matches aren't going to make me freak out after seeing what we did. Anyway…" _

_He stared out the window. "I'm glad Reed and I took that walk."_

* * *

"What's Phase Three?" Reed asked, following Kurt, as they followed the barricade. Like Kurt, Reed was restless that night. The moon was rising high, it was getting late, and after spending twenty minutes near the bonfire party that comprised of _four different school populations_, Kurt wanted to go take a walk so he didn't have to listen to the crackling.

Of course, the boys still had that habit of treating any of them who had been in the fire as the number one priority. The moment Kurt stood to walk, they swooped down and asked him if there was anything the matter, and if Kurt wanted the bonfire put out.

It took five minutes of convincing and half a minute after opening a container of cookies before Kurt managed to get away from them, Blaine, Reed, and Shane following. The last they saw of them, Laura Bancroft was dangling in the air, trying to get one away from her older brother who hardly seemed to notice her hanging onto his arm. The rest of the Windsors were trying to hoard them away from the non-Dalton students, and New Directions sat eating, baffled and remarkably immune.

The bonfire didn't bother Kurt, not really. He wasn't afraid of it, not when everyone made sure every precaution was taken—they did learn from the Art Hall—but it was still a reminder. The sound and the smell of it; it made him think of Mr. Harvey, who didn't make it out.

It made him think of the beams falling, and Julian trapped behind them.

"Phase Three?" Kurt asked, slowing to stay in step with Reed, who was wringing his hands. The little artist had been jittery with excitement, and for some reason the bonfire had only gave him more adrenaline.

"Phase One was the barricade, Phase Two was getting all the people…" Reed blinked. "What's Phase Three?"

"Well, I would've thought Phase Three was us doing the thing itself," Blaine replied, confused.

"Phase Three is wondering what the heck we are going to do when all these parents realize that all their kids are in this school having a crazy party," Kurt rolled his eyes. "We should've told them to come back in the morning!"

"We did!" Blaine laughed.

"We should kick them all out _now_!"

"We're in high school. We've got parties. It's the most plausible explanation on the planet." Blaine rubbed his arm. "They don't have to go until later…if you can convince them to." Blaine grinned. "You can convince anyone to do anything."

"You guys just needed a little push, that's all it was." Kurt shrugged.

"Whatever you say, Alice."

Kurt stopped walking when he saw a shadow flutter somewhere he knew they shouldn't go. It walked off to the direction of the one spot in school Kurt had stayed away from all this time. "Did you see that?"

"What?" Blaine looked around. Reed turned so fast that he tripped, and Shane had to catch him.

Kurt's breath caught. "I think I just saw someone."

In the long walk for the four of them, following the shadow, Kurt wondered if he was seeing things for a moment. They circled past the fountains and the bonfires, behind the buildings at south and main. He could hear the footsteps now, a good distance from him.

And when he rounded the bend, he saw exactly what he expected.

The huge ruin was cordoned off now. It was blackened and it still smelled like smoke and ashes. It was surrounded by a tin barrier—a temporary band-aid in blocking the sight away from students. But it wasn't tall enough to hide the ruin of the Hall completely. The first floor was completely ruined, black and gone. The second floor did a little better.

The third floor's windows had all been blasted out. Kurt couldn't recognize which one Adam and Julian had jumped from. But he recognized very well the window that he and everyone else had jumped through for their lives.

In front of where the steps should have been stood Dwight, with his dark hair in heavy locks around his pale face. He was wearing a black coat, and while this wouldn't be the first time, Kurt saw the wildflowers in his hand and knew what the other boy was here for.

Blaine, who had been watching, felt his heart clench at the sight of the other boy standing so still. He moved forward, but Kurt placed a hand on his arm to stop him. "Let me."

This wasn't the first time Kurt had to be the one to try and break Dwight away. He had done it once before, one dark anniversary that Kurt had empathized with. And now, as it would appear, there was something else to share with the strange little hunter.

Kurt made sure his footsteps were heard before coming to a stop behind Dwight, who made no movement. Dwight wasn't startled and did not react when Kurt laid his hand on his shoulder. "Come on," Kurt told him quietly. "You shouldn't be here."

The younger boy didn't respond immediately as he blinked up at the cordoned-off ruin and the blackness of the scorched building. He thought it would smolder still, but maybe it was just his imagination.

"Come on," Kurt prompted softly again, but more firmly this time. When Dwight looked at him, he smiled a little now that he had his attention. "Now we're both a little haunted, aren't we?"

"I always have been, I think." Dwight made one more glance back, before he began walking with Kurt back.

"I think everyone is, a little." Kurt nodded.

If Kurt noticed that Dwight held onto the cuff of Kurt's sleeve with two fingers, like a little boy letting an older brother guide him, he made no comment on it. Blaine was smiling when they reached him, and Reedwas looking hopeful and encouraging. Dwight glanced up at the older boys and nodded once. "I was just a little…." Dwight shrugged, turning his gaze to the distance, releasing the sleeve.

"Sealing the place up properly with some iron and salt?" Blaine asked.

But Dwight shook his head. "…Maybe I'm actually…hoping for a ghost this time."

"Not him," Shane replied, elbowing him a little, making the other boy grumble. "I'm pretty sure he gets the express train to a better place. No waiting around. Right?"

Dwight glanced at him and nodded almost begrudgingly. "…I guess so." After a pause, he added, "Well…I figured he'd stay for Ms. Medel."

"Yeah, he might want to look after the baby," Reed beamed.

Kurt shot daggers at a paling Reed before the statement sank in and Dwight did a double take. "Wait, _Ms. Medel is pregnant_? How did you—and why would Mr. Harvey stay for—" Realization hit Dwight like a brick. "_HOLY CAS—"_

"Shhh!" Kurt and Reed struggled to clap their hands over his mouth.

"Wait—_what_?!" the Andersons stared.

"Can we all just go back to the barricade?" Kurt hissed and Reed groaned, wilting as Kurt led them all away from the Art Hall. "We do not talk about this. We will _not_ talk about this, okay?"

"Ms. Medel is carrying Mr. Harvey's baby?!" Dwight squeaked in soft horror.

"You will not tell _anyone_, understand?" Kurt shot back.

"Oh that poor lady…." Shane looked crestfallen as the group hastily beat a path back towards the barricade. "She loses the baby's father and now she's going to lose her job in this school…. How will she manage?"

"How did you even find out? Can't we tell the others?" Blaine asked, looking worried. "We can pool money or something, try to help! It's the least we can do for Ms. Medel—"

"We will tell _no one_," Kurt said firmly. "It's Medel's secret. No one knows she's pregnant or who the father is except us."

"I don't like it," Dwight huffed. "That baby deserves to know who his father is. I'd want to if I was in that position."

"I agree," Reed mumbled, still furious with himself for that slip, "But…it's not really our secret to tell, is it?"

"_If you're trying to keep secrets, this school isn't the place to do it, everyone finds out." _All of them jumped when Han crackled into the glowered at it.

"Ix-nay on the eavesdropping-ay." Blaine muttered, noting the look on Kurt's face.

"_Kurt, come to the front barricade."_

"More people?" Kurt sighed and grabbed onto the com. "Caterpillar?"

"_I think it's more kids coming to support. It's safe, I'm still watching out. But I think you should take a look, Kurt. Someone you know is out there. I decided not to alert all the others about him."_

"Him? Him, who…?"

* * *

The visitor was David Karofsky.

He was walking down the railing down the entrance lane of the school, staring at the barricade beyond it, with no small astonishment. He seemed more interested in the barricade than where the other scattering of kids who were looking for a way in.

"Why is he here?" Blaine whispered after a few moments watching him.

"_My guess? He heard from the other students about what's going on. News is moving fast. I can't believe how much support we're getting, really. Getting a little worried—someone's parents will hear soon."_

Kurt watched as Karofsky stared incredulously at the giant prow of a viking boat—prop from the drama club—that was in the barricade along with everything else. "I'm going to go talk to him."

"What?! Wait, Kurt!" Blaine and Reed scrambled after him. Kurt was striding towards the main gate, where a small detachment of Hanovers and Day students were standing guard. "You can't just go out there!"

"It's fine," Kurt assured them. "I told you, he and I have talked about it. There's nothing to worry about." He paused before adding, "I think I trust him."

"This _is_ the guy that…the things he did to you, Kurt, I'm—" Blaine shook his head. "I don't want you going out there to meet him alone. Not after last time."

"It's alright," Kurt replied, slipping a hand over Blaine's that was now resting on his arm. "If it helps, Han's still watching. But I told you. He and I have come to an…understanding. It's going to be alright, I just want to see why he's here."

Blaine didn't look happy. He stood at the gate, almost reluctant to release Kurt who slipped away into the cold night air beyond the safety of their barricade.

It was still misty. The lights on the ground shone and made the road look almost slick. Karofsky looked as though he had no idea why he was there either, glowering at the barricade.

"Hey."

He jumped when Kurt's voice sounded. "Jeez. What's wrong with the water here? Why is your school all boarded up?"

"You know, I think." Kurt walked up to him.

"I heard you guys were planning a sit-in of some kind, not…this." Karofsky gestured to the wall. "This is a whole new level of crazy even for you people."

"Why are you here?" Kurt cut to the chase, staring at him.

He didn't answer. He fidgeted a little, and Kurt recognized that expression on his face. It was the same kind that Hal had earlier. "Here to help?" Kurt asked with a bit of a grimace, pulling him out of the water before it got too deep.

"How've you…how've you been, anyway?" He forced it out. "The school caught fire and you were one of the guys in it. Hudson was pissy for days."

"Clearly, I got out of that one okay," Kurt replied. Something nagged at him, and he added, "Is this a social visit? You really came all this way to ask how I was?"

"God, I knew this was a bad idea." He was walking away.

"Hey! Excuse me, we are not done talking!" Kurt hurried up to him a little closer. "You haven't learned by now that you do not walk away from me? That's not how you have a polite conversation with people! Now that you've asked how I was, it's my turn. Hello, David, how have you been?" He looked expectantly, willing a human conversation devoid of locker shoves to happen.

Karofsky looked frustrated, dragging a hand down his face. "I'm…fine. Trying to get my grades up."

"Yeah, the last time your dad mentioned something about that…"

"Hired a tutor. He's nice, he's our age."

"Great! Good! Now." And with endless patience, Kurt stared up at him. "Why exactly are you here at nine pm?"

The other boy rolled his eyes and sighed. "I guess…I came to wish you idiots luck. I don't think any of this is really going to help but…well, I didn't think I'd get sprayed by some loony with holy water last time I got here either. So…yeah. I hope it works out for you guys, Hummel."

Kurt was inwardly pleased at the statement. If someone had told him that this was ever going to happen, he would've laughed in derision. But this, by far, was really not the craziest thing he'd seen all week. It was strange, but it was good…that Karofsky was here, wishing him well just because he could. He smiled indulgently. "Thank you. I'll be sure to pass the word."

"I'm getting out of here now. My record's got enough problems as it is without this…thing you guys have going."

"Thank you, Karofsky. Really."

"…Thank you, Hummel."

It sounded like he was thanking him for something else. Kurt wasn't sure he could identify what it was.

Kurt watched his red jacket vanish into the mist before he headed back to the gate. He was surprised how much things had changed. It felt like a very long time since the last time Karofsky came to visit. Kurt wondered when he stopped being afraid. It felt different, facing him down and not feeling fear.

It wasn't that Blaine and the other boys were standing guard this time. It wasn't the surprising civility. Somehow, in the span of time he had spent at Dalton Academy, he had started to grow into himself, and earned his courage. After everything he and his friends have been through, he felt courage come so easily now. It had been there when he had fought through the hall. It was there when he urged the boys to stand up for their school with him.

Courage felt like a fire blanket around his shoulders, embers bouncing off it.

On the way there, he saw Logan standing outside of the gate. Blaine stood next to him. "You alright?" Logan asked.

Kurt stared at him, then narrowed his eyes at Blaine. "Oh no. You two are not doing this tag-team thing, okay, go away, I have somewhere to be, stop fussing over me like a pair of father hens!" He shooed them out of his way and strode back into campus.

Blaine started after him. "We were not! I swear, he just walked right out! Hey!" He swatted at Logan with a grumble before going after Kurt.

Logan stared at them in disbelief, not even sure what just happened. "What?" _These two are insane, no wonder they're so into each other._

Of course there was the part of him that casually reminded him of the fact that he himself didn't just decide to fall for one of them, but _both_ of them.

_Traitor_, he grumbled to himself.

"Excuse me."

He almost jumped and turned around. A boy who looked like he would be a freshman was standing out in the road. Like the kids from the other schools who were milling around, trying to see if they could get into the campus, he was looking from the wall and to Logan and back again.

"Do you go to school here?" the boy asked.

"I do." Logan faced him fully. He studied this blond freshman, who was now looking at him intently. "Why do you ask? Are you here to…join the others, I guess?"

"No," the boy replied with a piercing blue stare. "Actually…I came here to see the school. I was supposed to come here for the incoming year, as a freshman. But when I got here, I heard they were closing the school down. So…"

Logan gave the kid a once over. "What did you say your name was?"

"I didn't say it." He paused, and then added, "Austin. …Is it closing down? Really?"

"Maybe not. Not if we can do anything about it." Logan looked at the school with a frown. "Do you know what house you're to be in? Did you ask for one?"

"I heard new people and freshmen are given houses more or less random, but…you're allowed to choose one?"

"Sometimes. And choose wisely, because your sanity depends on it."

"I was hoping for Stuart House."

Surprised, Logan saw the young boy studiously looking at the road. Logan's lips curled to a smirk and he almost laughed. "I said choose _wisely_. You're another masochist who's into punishing workloads and unhealthy amounts of coffee?"

The boy stared. "What?"

Logan shook his head. "You'll get it at some point."

Simultaneously, all devices from the Dalton boys went off with a message from the Caterpillar with the heading: "_Decision has been reached_."

Logan pulled out his own phone and stared at the full contents message for a long moment. When he pushed his phone back into his pocket, he told the boy, "I'll tell you something, though. Go tell your parents to get you into Stuart House if you want it." He started storming straight back into the gates. "Because this school isn't closing down if we have anything to say about it."

Bewildered, the freshman watched him go. "O-okay…."

* * *

_Han coughed again and read from the tablet. "The second message I sent to them was: Decision has been reached. Dalton Academy is to formally close down tomorrow morning. The presence of the board, Legacy, parents, and staff will be expected. Dalton Academy boys have been allowed one last night at campus, where, in the morning, they will take part in the closing.'"_

_Han looked to the camera. "I added something else."_

"_And what would that be?"_

"_I told them…."_

* * *

Kurt, surrounded by the boys of Windsor, the firelight from the bonfire illuminating his face, now lowered his phone. He stared into the fire that he had already faced down once before.

"'_The siege begins now._'"

And the Dalton boys scattered into all directions, leaving Kurt sitting very still, back straight. Blaine squeezed his shoulder before he moved away.

Kurt stared at the fire and frowned at it.

"Six impossible things."

* * *

_Count them, Alice. Six impossible things._

_There are such things as magic cookies…._

* * *

The morning dawned grey. The handful of sentry boys who were standing at the barricades looked around, and fidgeted, waiting. All over Dalton Academy, everything was perfectly still.

There was a crackle at the com, and the caterpillar spoke from his vantage point on top of his mushroom-shaped pile of school electronics rigged together into a massive command center.

"_First convoy on its way. Please be warned, they just realized that we sent all the guards away. Lead car may be pissed off. Big time._"

To which Charlie, King of Windsor, replied, "Yeah, copy that. Hanover, you guys good?"

And the good King of Hanover, Justin, replied over his own com, "We're all ready here. Logan, how are you boys at Stuart?"

Standing tall, the boy everyone called the Knave looked over his troops. "Are you people nuts, we live on coffee, did you think we _slept_?"

"Fair enough," Charlie shrugged with a smirk. "Paige! You and your boys are…?"

"We're waiting, we've _been_ waiting…." Riley replied calmly, surrounded by the day students. "Shall we proceed?"

"Hello?!" Hal grumbled, clearly nursing a hangover from the bonfire. The St. Patrick students were in varying states of consciousness. "Didn't the dork on the com just say that they're _on their way_? What are we waiting for?"

"_This dork is going to lock you people out of communication if you don't shut up._"

"Alright so…should we go?" Finn asked, confused, with New Directions, who were also waiting around the walkie.

Kurt reached over and grabbed the com from Charlie. "Yes. Time to go."

"_It's all you now, guys. Convoy's coming closer. They'll be within sniping distance shortly. News crews are also on their way, in case you're interested."_

Blaine groaned. _"_Han, tell me you didn't call them."

"_Look, are we trying to hit the right pressure points or aren't we?!"_

"He has a point…." Wes gestured. "I mean, I know my parents will flip out and kill me, but you know, it'll be like…out of…love…." He dropped his head into his hand. "I'm going to die."

"_You're _going to die?" Dwight's hiss was just this side of hysterical. "You do not get to complain. You do not know my _mother_."

"Have you met mine?" Reed remarked.

"Hear that? That's the sound of my patience going this low." Charlie held up a smidge of space between his fingers. "Dwight. According to plan, _now_."

"That's all I'm good for around here, being the _cavalry_…." Dwight muttered. Kurt's eyes widened when Dwight raised what looked like a rather ornate silver crossbow, with a sight attached to it.

Balanced precariously on the barricade, Dwight took a position, carefully aiming for his target. Down the road, they could see limousines approaching. They were moving quickly.

"Are you sure about this?" Kurt whispered, watching the payload of Dwight's quarrel.

"I've got it," Dwight whispered.

"Steady…" Charlie removed his hand from the younger boys' shoulder to let him go on. Dwight breathed slowly, eyes looking into the scope of his crossbow as he leveled it. He had to shoot just right. He had never shot a mark this far before. "I can do this…."

"Steady…."

The target was getting closer. Wes watched in apprehension, the rest of the Windsors tense. "You're going to miss it—"

"No, I'm not." Dwight muttered without moving.

"Dwight…" Blaine murmured, staring at the target, which was still moving.

"I can do it…" he replied, arrow aimed. His hand was perfectly still, with all the air of a master marksman. And yet... Kurt looked worriedly from the crossbow to the target. Moving towards them.

"Come on, little Knight!" the Twins whispered.

Dwight exhaled, dark eyes gazing intensely through the scope and at the target. Right at the windshield, moving, coming closer. It was now or never.

He pulled the trigger.

The projectile flew into the air. Forty yards away, it landed with a neat little _thud!_ onto the hood of the first limousine, making everyone in it jump. On the tail of the quarrel fluttered a little sign.

_STOP!_

The limo braked into a screeching halt, bringing up dust and smoke and the smell of rubber. The rest of the cars, moving behind, started to slow down and stop when they saw the first's abrupt halt.

"_Lead limousine has been stopped,_" Han reported.

"Yes!" The Windsors were jubilant.

And from the hissing limousine, a door opened. Out stepped Colin Brightman, looking confused. Behind him stepped out a couple of the board members, who looked equally puzzled, especially as he walked towards the hood of the limo, reaching out for the quarrel.

"Everyone, to your posts, _now_!" Blaine hissed into the com. Everyone scattered.

"Colin, what the heck is going on?" Mr. Sullivan demanded as he emerged from another car. "Why did you stop?"

In response, Mr. Brightman turned and waved the quarrel to him. There was the slamming of another door, and Ford Houston, eyes locking onto the quarrel, let out a deep sigh. "Oh god. Here we go."

Burt Hummel stepped out of his car, glanced to Carole Hudson-Hummel and then towards the school. When the smoke and dust cleared, he whistled. "…_That_ is effort."

"What is?" Mr. Anderson asked, turning around.

When the smoke cleared away, they saw it: the massive barricade that the boys of Dalton Academy had erected and completed beyond the rail fence. It was stacked so high that it rose nearly two feet over the height of the rail itself. The main gate was completely blocked off by a high mound of school tables and chairs and heavy luggage.

There was no way through the barricade.

"This is…" Senator Wright choked as he looked at it. "What the hell did those boys _do_?"

Mr. and Mrs. Westwood stared in wonder at it. "They've turned it into a fortress."

It was Ms. Medel who braved the line first. She looked up at the wall and tried to move forward to the gate. She got as close as ten feet and abruptly stopped when a spray of water pumped from a powerful water pistol splashed into the ground not far from her toes.

"Well!" she stared. "Alright then."

"Reed!" Mrs. Van Kamp cried shrilly as she also tried to move towards the school. "Reed, if you are in there, you had better come out right now! I mean it, young man!"

No response but the blowing wind.

The coms crackled. "_Most have stepped out of the vehicles. News crews are still en route, but parents and staff are here. If we're going to do this, the time is now."_

"What is going on here?!" Dean Ramsey demanded.

Breathless, Blaine clicked on the com. "Now."

* * *

_And there are Houses with Kings…_

* * *

And Blaine grabbed the nearby baseball bat. He handed it to Charlie, but the prefect only gestured for him to do the honors. Nodding in return, Blaine took the bat, walked to the nearest bit of furniture, and knocked it hard, three times, onto the posts.

It was a beat that echoed through the air of the morning. It was like a battle drum. Hundreds of other hands and feet followed, some of them beating instruments to the walls, to the floor, some clapping, some stamping their feet, all an answering echo to Blaine.

And the voices rose.

_This is a call to arms…_

_Gather soldiers;_

_Time to go to war…_

_This is a battle song…_

_Brothers and sisters;_

_Time to go to war…_

Their voices echoed through the grounds. Groups started pouring out from all of the buildings, all of them carrying "armor" and "weapons". None of their armaments, from the nerf bats to the super soakers, were lethal.

Everyone was running. They came rushing out into the grounds from Windsor, Stuart, Hanover, South and Main—virtually every corner of the school; they were cheering and yelling, banners waving. It was inhuman. It was adrenaline.

Over the rush, running alongside Kurt, Blaine grinned.

_Did you ever believe?_

_Were you ever a dreamer?_

_Ever imagine heart open and free?_

The parents took a step back in shock as the roar of hundreds of young voices rose from inside school grounds. Dalton boys swarmed over the grounds, feet pounding into the earth and the pavements. It was a stampede, a rush of screaming, crying bodies, hurtling towards them in single-minded determination.

Logan took the song as he stormed forward with them.

_Did you ever deny?_

_Were you ever a traitor?_

_Ever in love with your blood-lust and need?_

The bodies hit the barricade and made it groan. People outside cried out in alarm as the bodies slammed in, hands reaching up, climbing, many tearing upwards, throwing their bodies over. Those outside stepped back and saw the students starting to appear from virtually everywhere—so many, all roaring in support of Dalton's boys.

Running to the barricade, waving Windsor's flag, the Twins led the voices of the Warblers, New Directions, the Terpsichores, the Cheerios, the Banshees, and every single person who had decided to lend their strength.

_This is a call to arms…_

_Gather soldiers;_

_Time to go to war…_

_This is a battle song…_

_Brothers and sisters;_

_Time to go to war…_

The roaring resumed anew. The crowd of faculty members, staff, and all the parents stared in shock as the hundreds of students appeared over and around the barricades, pressed to the fences, waving their flags, banners, and foam weapons. All of them crying out the roar of hundreds of voices, the words of the song leading them.

Over the fences, Colin Brightman saw banners with their messages clear:

KEEP DALTON ALIVE.

"I don't believe it…." Senator Wright stared.

Kurt scanned the crowd below, taking in how more and more of the crowd were starting to come close. Cameras and phones pointed to them, taking photographs of the spectacle, recording the sound of their voices and their shouts.

General Willis, standing with Richard Bancroft stared, was aghast. Dean Ramsey moved forward, with an expression bordering on amazement.

Parents were yelling for their children to come down and to stop. They were drowned out by the roar. They seemed almost muted, so distant, so small compared to the power of their combined voices.

Knowing fully well their families were in this throng, Reed and Shane took up the song.

_Ever want to be free?_

_Do you even remember?_

_Want to beguile the devil like me?_

To a spray of explosive confetti adding to the din and the noise, Wes moved up the barricade with David, in full view.

_Ever want to just stop?_

_Do you want to surrender?_

_Or fight for victory?_

The roar almost died away, falling into softness, as there was the sound of climbing, and Kurt stood tall at the highest point of the main gate barricade. His eyes took the color of the sky overhead, and his voice was clear.

_Here we are at the start…_

_I can feel the beating of our hearts…_

_Here we are at the start…_

He looked around him, to all the students on their side of the battle line, and nodded. Blaine readily reached up and linked a free hand to him. The Windsors began to grab onto each other, followed by the Stuarts and Hanovers. Hands and arms rapidly began to link to one another, making an even more solid wall.

"Hurry, let's get them down from there, this is ridiculous!"

Overhead, the sun was blotted out by the clouds.

More and more groups comprised of staff and parents began to charge forward. A hose, dragged in by the boys from behind the barricade switched on. The parabola of water rose from behind the barricade and started to rain in pelting drops onto everyone on the barricade and the gates. It was enough to drive back the group trying to get in; it was as though a storm had come over everything, its drops drumming into the earth.

Watching, hands gripped tight to their schoolmates, Charlie and Justin stood firm, solid foundations for the rest of their classmates on the wall structure. They would not let anyone's hands slip as the water fell over them all.

_Darkness falls here comes the rain…_

_To wash away the past and the names…_

Climbing up to the highest points, Derek and Spencer nearly hurled themselves upward. The world around them was drenched, the water pelting into the ground.

_Darkness fall here comes the rain…_

_To end it all; the blood and the games… _

Bailey, Danny, and the rest of the Warblers had their arms linked together to keep each other steady and unfailing. Their voices rose strong over the rain; the crowd was beginning to roar again.

_Far, far away in a land that time can't change…_

_Long, long ago in a place of hearts and ghosts…_

Breathless, Dwight still stood where he had been from the beginning, holding onto his friends tightly, and taking strength from them, he sang with everything he had.

_Far, far away in a land that time can't change…_

_Long, long ago in a place of hearts and ghosts…!_

The entire crowd erupted into cheers and roars, drowning out the shouts below them. The cacophony was tremendous.

The sun broke from the clouds and the water was finally shut down from behind the barricade. Everything was soaked and dripping. The cheering continued as the crowd of onlookers grew in size. All the cameras aimed at them, this was making the morning news—that hundreds of students came to Dalton Academy to protest its closing.

That was when the head of the school board, followed by a great number of Legacies and many of the boys' parents, materialized in front of the gate, and stared resolutely at the students.

The last note hung in the air, thrumming, as though it was waiting.

* * *

_The White Rabbit, The March Hare, the Hatter, Dormouse, the Twins, are all as real as they could be…._

* * *

The change happened softly at first, then got stronger as they realized it—the thrumming combination of voices, so familiar to all now, as the Warblers moved towards each other. Down below, the parents and staff looked on in amazement as the Warblers continued to sing, their voices getting louder, stronger.

Finally, they erupted into a melody that the crowd of protesters recognized instantly and a cheer overtook the entire barricade, and even beyond it as the crowd watching from below began to smile in spite of themselves.

The Warblers looked proudly at each other, helping each other climb to the highest points of the barricade, staying around each other and their voices sounding over everything.

As all eyes flew to him, Kurt raised his voice first.

_Into the night…_

_Desperate and broken…_

_The sound of a fight…_

_Father has spoken…_

The Warblers brought their voices together once more as the students lifted their banners and weapons into the air, cheering wildly, many trying to sing along with them, intensifying the song that echoed through the entire place, and into the live feeds, as thousands of onlookers stared.

Blaine led the others.

_We were the kings and queens of promise…_

_We were the victims of ourselves…_

_Maybe the children of a lesser God,_

_Between Heaven and Hell,_

_Heaven and Hell…_

The parents looked to each other now, as their children and their friends continued to hold onto each other on top of that precarious, wild barricade, their voices overpowering the cries of those below them. They were making their voices heard, and they were not going to stop. Even those who weren't Warblers—they sang with everything they had.

Wes kept close to David and Danny from their position on top of a spiral made of luggage and chairs.

_Into your eyes…_

_Hopeless and taken…_

_We stole our new lives…_

_Through blood and name…_

Reed's voice rose next, the boy not realizing that his mother gazed up at him with something like amazement. To his delighted surprise, Shane joined him, hands making sure he was stood steady in the wind.

_In defense of our dreams;_

_In defense of our dreams…_

Blaine caught sight of Ms. Medel. She stood in front of the gates, watching them. But she was smiling at them, the way she always did when she was in practice with them. She did not seem too surprised, nor did she seem as though she was going to do anything like stopping them.

As the group continued to sing the chorus, the students doing the same, powered on by them, Medel watched with great admiration. She smiled, as though she were watching a fireworks display, and not merely a group of teenagers standing on a makeshift wall created of anything they found.

And Medel, looking at her students, decided that if Greg could see them, he'd be proud.

Or he'd be up there with them, knowing him.

The Legacies were starting to gather together. Many of them hissed and whispered and tried to be heard, but there was no doubt that many of them kept looking back at their sons and the other boys on the barricade.

The Senator happened to glance once, and did a double take when he saw Logan take a step forward. He was standing close to the very edge, as he was wont to do, the wind rippled at him, but he wasn't afraid.

He had stood in places higher, after all, and had jumped off them to live.

_The age of man is over…_

_A darkness comes at dawn…_

Senator Wright made an odd sound in his throat, and stepped towards the wall, to his son. But he was stopped immediately by Ford Houston, who shot him a look that told him to stay right where he was.

Ford raised his eyes to the legacy that he sent into Dalton: Dwight. He had been the one standing closest to Logan at the barricade, and he with the others helped draw him back to a safer perch.

Ford wasn't sure if he'd ever heard his reticent nephew raise his voice this way, looking absolutely without fear at the horde below. He had the same impassioned determination he had when facing anything in the world—from his demons within, to those beyond it.

_These lessons that we've learned here…_

_Have only just begun…_

The Warblers surged forward to the conspirators who stood out in the front lines, lending their support as their voices came together again. The Twins kept close to Alice and the Rabbit, the Dormouse with his face alight, the Hare and the Hatter almost laughing together, and the Knave looking warm.

And Kurt thought, _We have this._

_We were the kings and queens of promise,_

_We were the victims of ourselves._

_Maybe the children of a lesser God,_

_Between Heaven and Hell. _

That song held in the air as everyone burst into cheers and roars, fluttering their banners in the wind and the Dalton boys almost jumping up and down, screaming, holding onto each other. No matter what happened, they had this.

In this pandemonium, Kurt watched as the school board president and some of his staff, joined by many of the legacy parents, began to form a clump in front of the main throng of the Warblers and students.

* * *

_That one can survive the heart of an inferno…._

* * *

The most conspicuous of the Dalton boys now began to descend from the front of the barricade. They were going to penetrate the gate, and face their opponents head on. The boys took their spots in the entryway like the defenders on a chessboard, and scattering like dealt cards to face the opponents that they knew best.

"Boys," the school board president said in clear finality, the banners still waving overhead, "You have to stop this _immediately_. The decision had already been made yesterday. Your parents have been present to witness it. The decision _is final_."

"We're sorry, sir, we don't believe anything is final," Charlie Amos told them. In his hand was a baseball glove. Windsors were flinging streamers into the air behind him.

"Because you're out there, and we're in here," Logan Wright added. He had papers crumpling in his shaking fist, though his voice was calm. The Stuarts were joining in the noise, slamming athletic gear against the shelves.

"And I'm afraid to say that the boys of Dalton Academy refuse to leave until you have changed your minds." Justin Bancroft smiled. His hands were behind his back, but he held an envelope with a golden seal. The Hanovers were chanting the battle cry, "Keep Dalton Alive."

Mr. Brightman watched all this, and then looked at his twin boys, who stood opposite him, identical and smiling calmly. Ford Houston nodded to himself as he saw Dwight step a little closer, as though ready to defend against anything.

Finally, Mr. Anderson snapped, "And what makes you think that we can't have you boys taken out of there?"

The cacophony started to die away as all attention turned to the boys who stood before the barricade now, waiting for their response.

Blaine stood before his father without fear now, Shane to his left, Kurt to his right. In Blaine's hands was the letter signed by Gregory Harvey, who had been as much as a Dalton boys as any of them.

"You can," Blaine told him. "But you won't. None of you will."

"And why is that?" Senator Wright asked him.

"Because you came from this place too." Kurt stepped forward now. "You know as well as anyone, and as well as we do, that there's something that's in this school that does things to you. It changes you to something better. You need time to figure it out, as I did when I first came here. But once you realize it's happening, you pass it on. You don't stop it—you pass it to the next generation. It was yours. But now it's ours. Too many Dalton boys have done what they could to protect this place and the students in it, and we won't let them down as much as we won't let ourselves down."

He carefully took Harvey's letter from Blaine. Kurt continued, raising his voice a little, as he held the letter up. "Mr. Harvey was one of them. You remember him, don't you?" A murmuring streamed through the crowd. Kurt blinked away the brief mist.

"He was the teacher who stayed behind, so every single person inside that hall could make it out. He was one of you, and one of us. He was a prefect of Windsor, and he was a Dalton student: one that knew well enough what this place could do. That's why he came back to teach here. He passed it on to us, and he protected us. And he didn't do all that…he didn't give it all up…just to have you guys shut it down."

"I'm afraid one teacher doesn't define the whole school." The board president said primly.

"And one student's mistake shouldn't define every student in it either!" Blaine snapped.

Then everyone around him mumbled among themselves at this. The Dalton boys looked apprehensive. Blaine swallowed, eyed all the watching cameras, and kept going, "What that guy did…he has serious problems and he's being treated for them. But he isn't all of us. What he did doesn't represent the rest of us, this school, how we feel...and he doesn't represent the rest of you."

Surprised, House Head Howard asked, "What are you talking about?"

"I think I found friends who may be my friends for life,"David suddenly spoke. He was holding a letter, but he kept his eyes on his father, willing him to remember. The expression on Mr. Sullivan's face changed entirely, and he stared in wonder at his son. "When I have a son, I want him to have those same things."

"We just have to do what we can," Derek told his father, staring intently. His hands shook, and for a moment, Mr. Siegerson looked as though he wanted to go up to them and hold them steady. "We do our best. And however this turns out, we know we did right in the end."

"Some decisions are too important to delegate to someone else," Justin murmured, and his father looked up at him. Lord Bancroft began to slowly nod, as though holding back a smile. "There are some choices we _must_ fight for. We think you'll make those right choices too. Because we won't let you take this one from us."

Dwight kept his eyes down on the ground, even though it was Ford who wanted him to look up. But he too closed his eyes when Dwight choked out, "I've seen my share of demons. Both in me and out. But what I know for a fact is, in this place, you get to find people who'll fight your demons with you."

Kurt was starting to smile, hands carefully holding the sheet of handwritten text. Like every single Dalton boy in the barricade, he was holding a letter that came from days long past. He glanced to his schoolmates still on the barricade, and smiled. Reed and the others waved back, holding their own letters.

They held these letters with pride. This was the idea that the Dalton boys had prepared. This was their ammunition for the siege, their counterargument. They would not resort to the pranks and tricks they were so good at. This time, they would use courage they had gleaned from their days here, and from the courage lent by these letters from all the boys who had gone into the school.

They would have to bring back everything the school stood for, and remind everyone who had forgotten. To use voices from then and from now.

Senator Wright looked up when Logan planted his feet in front of him. "So we hope you know that we won't give up." His gaze held his father's, and never wavered. "Giving up isn't an option for us anymore. You've robbed us of that."

"What?" the board president stared.

"You forgot what this school is for and what it did for you," Logan replied. And he looked to his father again and continued, "And all these things that were left for us that you wanted us to find. Where you failed in that, we will succeed. We won't give up. We won't forget home. We're fighting for it now."

Blaine smiled and nodded, before he faced the school board president. "Sir, I might not be a legacy like the other guys, but a lot of us actually aren't. The thing is, even without those words…_your_ words, actually," he gestured to the legacies, who then looked startled, "even without the words from you…a lot of us already knew what this place was for us."

He looked around. "Yes, something terrible happened. It was huge and awful, and it frightened all of us. I know it as well as anybody. But no one could've predicted this to happen or wanted this to happen. What's important is how we deal with it. Dalton can't just crumple into itself and fall because of this. Not when someone died to make sure that we'd make it past this. Not when all of us are here, and we're willing to fight for it."

"We were taught to be strong by this school, by you, and by each other," Logan declared, Derek at his side, coming to stand with Blaine and Kurt. "You've made us strong. And now we're at least strong enough to tell you that we're not going to allow you to take it all back now."

The Twins, who had been watching their quiet father, now smiled and raised their weapons, looking to the barricade. "What do you guys say?! Are we staying in this school?!"

Kurt cringed with a laugh at the answering roar of cheering and applause rocked the entire barricade.

* * *

_There is a place called Warblerland…_

* * *

St. Patrick's students were joining in, cheering loudly. "Let them keep their school!" the players were howling.

Like a troop of Amazons, the Dobry girls roared and pounded onto the shelves and furniture along with the others. "You're going to have to take us down with them!" Katherine was yelling, her voice breaking mid-sentence and making David smile.

Laughing, David saluted her and the girls before giving Blaine a light punch on the shoulder and a nod. "Good speech, man."

"Shut up…." Blaine laughed and shook his head. He kept Kurt close by—Kurt was staring up at his friends on the barricade.

"Don't give up on Dalton Academy!" New Directions was going to shout themselves hoarse if they kept at it. Mr. Schuester, who had arrived with the families the minute he had received Artie's text about their whereabouts, shook his head slowly with a small laugh as he clapped along with the others. He walked towards the barricade and Kurt ran forward to him.

"Mr. Schue!" he grinned. "You're here!"

"Where else would I be?" he smiled. The Dalton boys grinned as they made space. Mr. Schuester stood to face the rest of the crowd and reached out a hand to Ms. Medel who readily stepped forward to join him.

"Sylvia, what are you doing?" Mr. Murdoch demanded as the cheers rose even higher.

"Helping the boys, of course," she told him, as though it should have been obvious. "You ought to be ashamed of yourself, Bradley, really; you're the alumni here." And she proudly grabbed the Twins' hands and stood with them, leaving Mr. Murdoch to stare, aghast.

To their surprise, even the people in the crowd—the onlookers, the alumni, the parents—began to applaud with them. Many of those present started to clap along with them, albeit a little hesitantly.

"Oh to hell with it. It's either they win or we lose our jobs anyway." Todd Howard pushed past the crowd and walked up to the students.

"Whoa!" Charlie jumped back for a moment, preparing for the worst, but he visibly relaxed when the House Head linked his arm to theirs and stood facing the school board with them.

"Alright there, Charlie?" he asked. "No fire alarms today?"

"Not today, sir," the prefect grinned.

The Hanovers cheered as Mr. Newman walked up to them, chuckling, proudly shaking their hands as he joined them. And as Madame Saint-Clair and Mrs. Abernathy hurried over to them, Dean Ramsey moved forward to consider the growing support.

"Awful lonely out there, Liz!" Medel smiled. "Are you not going to join us?"

"Yeah, come on, Dean Ramsey!" Reed called out, grinning.

"Come on, Dean Ramsey, you know you love us!" Wes called brightly. "We're your regulars!"

"Admit it, you're going to miss us if they close the place down!" David yelled, laughing.

"Life won't be as exciting!" the Twins exclaimed, waving wildly, as Ramsey dropped her face into a hand.

"Uh, guys, are we trying to get her to join us, or get her to _against_ keeping this place open?" Kurt asked them with a strained smile as the Windsors cheered and whistled. His disapproval didn't last long—especially when he saw Burt and Carole moving towards them. "Dad!"

"Make room, huh? Come on, scoot." Reed happily skipped aside and Burt smiled, taking his son's other hand. He didn't say anything else as he joined the human barricade, but his eyes told Kurt volumes of his pride.

As Mr. and Mrs. Westwood, encouraged, hurried over along with other parents who have decided to take the boys' side. Dean Ramsey sighed and waved them off.

"I will only be a moment…" and she walked towards the school board and the alumni. The boys started cheering even louder, firing nerf bullets into the air to add to the noise. The human barricade grew.

As the chorusing continued, Ramsey walked to the group of men. "I know these boys well, sir," she sighed at last, addressing no particular person. "They're as hardheaded as they come. Well nigh incorrigible. There isn't a week that goes by that I don't have one of them in my office, or that something absolutely mad happens, but…" she glanced back a moment, as more staff and a few alums began to join the boys, "…they seem to be doing better with each year they spend in school. Some of them in leaps and bounds."

She leveled her gaze at one particular person standing next to the school board president. "Headmaster Winters, wouldn't you agree?"

The Headmaster only stared back at her, contemplative. "I suppose so…"

Mr. Brightman, the other parents, and the rest of the most important of the alumni watched their sons. The father of the twins looked to the school board president, and said, "Well…we made them the way they are. Us, and this school. It's not as though we're the ones who live in it now. It's come a long way from what it used to be."

"A reformatory for delinquent boys, you mean?" Mr. Sullivan laughed softly.

"How are they any different, then?" frowned Senator Wright. "Challenging authority, setting this all up, drawing the security away and causing all that…damage. What makes them different from delinquents, then?"

"Soldiers fight for a cause," Paxton Willis finally replied. He was watching them with something akin to pride. "They're fighting for one."

"It's on us now, isn't it?" Ford Houston told them, looking around. "What'll it be, gentlemen?"

Kurt felt his hands shaking from where they were held firmly by Blaine's and his father's, when the men in the small huddle broke apart. He watched as Headmaster stepped away, pushing past the reporters and encroaching cameras, and began to walk to them.

He stopped a few feet from them, and gestured for the prefects of each student group to step forward. And when they moved forward, he also gestured to Blaine, Kurt, and Logan, the people he knew who led the Warblers.

Kurt walked forward with his jaw set.

* * *

_And we can save the school._

* * *

"Headmaster Winters?"

The headmaster looked up to see Kurt pausing at the door of the office, about to leave. "Yes, Mr. Hummel?"

"What did…um…." Kurt fully faced him again, confused. It had been days since, but this question had nagged at him. "…What did they say? The other alumni and the board, all of you had already decided to close the school, but…what did they say to you before you walked up to us? What happened to all their arguments?"

Winters considered this svelte boy who, as he already known after all the stories, was likely the catalyst that the school had probably needed. This was the one they all called "Alice", who stumbled into their land and changed everything.

"Well…I'll try to explain, Mr. Hummel," the headmaster replied. He set down the memory card that had Kurt's statement in it, and put it down onto his desk with some paperwork. "You see, as late as twenty five years ago, Dalton Academy was a school where boys of a…well, slightly troubled nature were sent to. It was known for teaching boys how to express themselves better, to grow into themselves without having to act out on their more violent impulses."

"_What_." Kurt stared. Did that mean that the legacies—like Mr. Houston, Mr. Sullivan, Lord Bancroft, _Senator Wright_ for goodness' sakes; were they sent here to be reformed from the renegades they used to be. Which had to be…_impossible,_ right?

"It's not as bad as it sounds," the headmaster laughed softly. "But I suppose you can see where Dalton's tradition of rambunctiousness comes from. It was only in the last two decades when we really managed to establish this school into a preparatory for fine young men. The boys who graduated here had believed in this school so much, had been changed by it so much that…well…they wanted their sons to have the same chance to experience what they did."

He straightened up a photograph of this year's students on his wall before he faced Kurt again. "Two things, really. First, that in spite of that incredible display of regulation breaking with the barricade and protest, you boys are doing far, _far_ better than we were back in our day." He smiled. "Dean Ramsey had many things to say about you all."

Now that was honestly a surprise. Kurt smiled faintly. "And the second thing?"

"The second thing…" the headmaster nodded, "…is that the last time anyone tried to shut down this school, it failed, and things changed for the better. I'm happy to say that the same boys who had saved it once were standing outside the school when you all staged your own protest to save it."

Kurt couldn't remember when his mouth came open, but he reminded himself dimly to close it. "They…_what?_"

"You boys have no idea about the magnitude of what you did," Headmaster Winters smiled. "You didn't just show us what you could do when you work together, all of you. But you also reminded us that you all could be even greater, overcome even bigger things. And we couldn't deprive you all of the chance to do that in these hallowed halls." He gestured around the room and beamed at Kurt.

"And…" Kurt's heart leapt, eyes wide. "And that means…."

"Yes, Mr. Hummel. It's official now." The headmaster walked to the great windows and considered the grounds of Dalton Academy.

* * *

The boys had descended from the barricade and gathered into a crowd in front of the gate, anxiously waiting as the prefects and the Warblers came up to them. During the time they had been talking, the cries from the barricade had gone quiet, as though everyone was trying to hear the answer.

The discussion was almost too lengthy, and just a shade too nerve-wracking. But now the boys looked somber, walking away from Headmaster Winters. Nervous, the rest of the students approached their leaders.

"Well?" Wes asked, worried, David next to him. The Twins glanced to their impassive father, and back to their Alice and Rabbit.

"Do we…" Reed was biting his nails and Shane gently batted the fingers away from his mouth. The boys were silent. "…Do we get to stay?"

"What did they say?" Derek clutched onto Logan's sleeve, with just the smallest fraction of desperation in his voice. "Lo, what did they say?"

Danny raised his eyes to his prefect. "Justin?"

Charlie nudged Blaine and nodded to him, as though finally giving him permission to speak. It seems the Windsor prefect would rather look up at the sky and blink away what looked like tears.

"Oh…" the Windsors, watching, felt something leaden drop.

"They, uh…" Blaine finally began, staring at the distance. He seemed to lose his nerve and dropped his gaze to the hands fisted to his sides. "That said they're still going to talk more amongst themselves, and to all of us, individually and as a group about it and all, to discuss everything so it's all clear, but…."

The boys let out their breaths, crushed at what this all meant. The decision was a decision. Drew and Satoru shook their heads, crestfallen, as Han pushed his head into his hands. Shane gathered up Reed, who wanted to cry. Dwight had to turn around and breathe.

And then Blaine raised his head at last. His eyes were shining.

"Dalton stays open."

The look on the boys' faces was something Kurt was eternally grateful to be holding Reed's camera for. Eyes wide, mouths open in shock, it was the flash that woke them and suddenly, everyone was jumping and screaming, their joy like a shockwave.

The kids at the barricade went entirely ballistic, their euphoria almost bringing the whole structure into a crash as hundreds poured down from the structure. Countless confetti poppers imploded overhead. It was snowing rainbow colors and the students were screaming at the top of their lungs and hurling themselves onto the Warblers and the boys down below.

"We did it!" The Windsors were screaming, grabbing onto anyone they could hold, not even caring if it wasn't even a Dalton student. "_We did it! We saved the school!_"

Joining in the cheering, Kurt opened his arms to embrace his boyfriend but instead found himself enveloped in a bone-crushing hug from the Twins—he was lifted completely off the ground, his toes barely touching the earth. "Ow! Still tender! Tender!" he squirmed in their grip.

"Thank you, Alice!" The Twins cried, still hugging him, very nearly snuggling, in spite of Blaine's best efforts to peel them away from Kurt.

"Please don't kiss me," Kurt begged, cringing. "Let go of me right now please!"

He was dropped straight into Blaine's arms. "Hey," Kurt blinked, a little stunned, and the Twins skipped away to jump onto Logan, who howled.

"Hey," Blaine breathed, a little flushed, and he set him back down on his feet. Stammering, he managed to laugh. "We…I can't believe it, we did it!"

"I knew we would," Kurt grinned. He laughed when a particularly large burst of confetti landed over them both. "Okay, maybe not entirely believed it, but I wasn't taking no for an answer this time."

"Thank you." When Blaine surged forward to embrace him, it was sudden, enveloping, and Kurt could only return it, holding tight. Blaine held him like he was holding on for dear life, and Kurt's hands fisted onto the back of Blaine's jacket. He felt Blaine's face pressed into his shoulder, and Kurt closed his eyes.

_I'm not going to say goodbye to you._

"Thank you," Blaine repeated, muffled. "For this."

"It was for me too…." Kurt reminded him.

"Then…we have time." Blaine murmured. "Lots of time?"

"Until senior year anyway…." Kurt smiled.

They weren't sure how long they stood there, the confetti falling, people screaming around them, being jostled about by their friends who were bouncing off of each other in joy. He didn't mind not being able to really take part—he would consider it once he and Blaine have managed to get their bearings back.

* * *

The echoing cries of delight that day at the barricade was almost identical to the cheering that took place when they all emerged out of the Headmasters' Office.

Dalton boys and Dobry girls were crammed in the hall, waiting anxiously for the final confirmation of Dalton Academy's fate. Kurt stepped out with the others, and watched as Charlie informed the student body that the school would stay open.

Blaine had no idea where all this confetti was coming from, but he was certain that the Brightmans had something to do with it. The balloons, the silly string, the madness—echoing off the old walls, the delight seemed louder than when it had been at the barricade.

Some of the boys were literally bouncing off the walls as Kurt and Blaine walked amongst them. Everyone in the school had officially lost their minds and Kurt just laughed, shaking his head, holding onto Blaine's hand as they ran down that ridiculous hallway. Just as they did on the very first day they met—albeit without the confetti and papers and madness that they now had falling around them.

The joy, the adrenaline, was contagious, and they were all infected. Song and laughter and cheering filled the air, and Reed, guided by Todd, happily took out the camera to take some memories. It was not very difficult—apart from the victory, there was apparently more news.

"Yes!" Bailey was laughing hysterically into a phone. "We did it, we actually did it and everything's going to be okay!" He was beaming at his schoolmates. "Yeah. I know. But I'm glad you called. I didn't know you cared!" he teased, and dissolved to laughter, nodding. "Don't worry. I'll keep taking care of things here. I'll see you soon."

"Friend?" Thad asked, tossing him a can of silly string.

"Better." Bailey sprayed him in the face.

As everyone celebrated, Sydney Willis walked up to Merril Portman and said, "It's a time of good news! So I guess it's fitting I give you this now. It's too bad, Merril. Looks like your school stays open. But just in case you're still interested anyway…"

With the blue and white envelope in her hand, Merril's brow furrowed. "What's this?" she tore it open, pulled the paper out, and the envelope fluttered to the floor.

"Merril?" Spencer asked, worried.

"Sydney…." Merril looked up, eyes wide, and filling with tears. "This…."

"Congratulations," Sydney's smile was bright. "You have been accepted into Dobry School for Girls. The first one to ever transfer from Dalton. We hope that even though Dalton stays open…you'll consider spending senior year with us."

Spencer's cry exploded out of him—he and Merril grabbed each other at the same time. He held her tight as she burst into tears, hand covering her eyes as she sobbed.

Justin and Danny arrived at their side and saw her crying. Spencer could only look back at them and smile through his own tears.

"Did she…?" Justin asked, "…Dobry Hall?"

Spencer nodded. Danny let out a breath of pure happiness and joined in hugging Merril. All of the Hanovers were piling on.

Justin walked up to Sydney, grinning, and hugged his fellow prefect. "Thank you. I think you've just made her year."

"She deserves it," Sydney said firmly, returning the embrace. "She deserves everything she hopes for."

"Does that include your brother?" Justin teased.

"Shut up, Bancroft." She laughed and pushed him away, shaking her head.

Reed happily snapped a photo of the Hanovers and the Dobry girls with them, grinning, knowing very well that this photos was going to go into Merril's shelf in the archives, since she was leaving their ranks soon.

At that moment, David flew past them, searching through the crowd of Dobry girls, looking around frantically before he spotted her. He a beeline for Katherine, sweeping her up and twirling her in the air. "We get to stay! Katherine, we get to stay forever!"

"Yes, yes, I know!" she was laughing hysterically, hugging him. "Well, hopefully not forever, because college, David, but I knew you guys would, I knew you would!" She kissed him and held his arms when her feet touched the ground again.

"Katherine!" David breathed, eyes bright and holding her hands. Energy was coursing through his body and he was reckless with courage. "Katherine—marry me."

"What?" she froze, staring at him in shock. A clump of confetti fell with a smack onto her head.

"Marry me." David breathed, holding her hands tight. He fell onto his knees.

Wes, watching nearby, lost his mind and grabbed onto Dwight, shaking him violently in excitement; so much that Dwight's pendants jingled like a wind chime. Dwight merely stood there without so much as a change in his deadpan expression and allowed the shaking to continue, inured by now.

"Katherine Rivers," David breathed—and she had made him swear ages ago that if he were ever to attempt it, that he would not mount any spectacle involving candlelight and overly romantic gestures, or so help her, she would shove the ring down his throat; and so he felt somehow safe and a million times more anxious—and he produced a box he'd been carrying for so long. "Katherine Rivers, will you marry me?"

The Windsors went ballistic. Katherine burst into tears and she reached out to kiss David through the rainfall on her face. "Why do you ask the silliest questions at the silliest times?!" she demanded, sobbing. "Of course I will, you crazy thing, of course I will!"

Dozens of bodies slammed into the happy couple, going crazy as they cheered. David held Katherine tight in his arms, nose buried into his hair, and wondered how many people were lucky enough to have met the love of their lives so soon.

Katherine sobbed out to him, "Oh...ohh...I want a Harry Potter wedding...!"

"You want a _what_?" David stared.

"You heard me! A Harry Potter wedding!"

Flustered, and still on a high from her accepting that she could have asked for a wedding ring encrusted in moon rock and he would've agreed, David only burst into a laugh and nodded. "Okay—okay sure, whatever you want, we can do that!"

Wes nodded at Reed, who happily took a snapshot of the two. A Dalton wedding—the first of its kind in recent memory—was definitely one for the history books.

"Oh my _god_," Katherine's friend, Casey, burst into laughter, clapping wildly. "You're getting married! Katherine, you're getting married! David gets to stay and _Katherine gets to get married_, oh my go—"

"They're going to _what_?" Derek appeared next to her, confused, having missed the whole thing.

Casey screamed and leapt into his arms in joy. "A wedding! David and Katherine! They're having a wedding!"

Derek didn't respond. He was too busy realizing that he had her in his arms and she was embracing him. When he tightened his embrace, Casey seemed to realize as well, and she flushed deeply. "I…"

"I'm an idiot," Derek told her immediately, staring with something like hopeless desperation. It spilled out of him unbidden, and he had the nasty feeling that he was going to go to bed tonight with humiliation still fresh. "I'm the biggest idiot in the world. Monumental. Everything you've said about me, you've thought about me, you're right. You're absolutely right, and I'm a terrible person."

"Shut up." Casey was flustered, getting back onto her feet and smacking his arm. "This—this isn't the time! What is wrong with you, this is a happy time! Happy! So be happy, damn it!"

Derek didn't answer that one. He was too busy marveling at the fact that she wrapped her slender fingers around his and dragged him off to celebrate with the others.

"Hey!" Reed cried, laughing, as the Twins snatched the camera and took a photo of Derek's face as Casey pulled him away.

"Blackmail!" They whispered, before pressing the camera back into Reed's hands, and fleeing the scene immediately. Reed only burst out laughing.

The twins passed Logan, who had been watching Derek. They grinned at him, smacking their hands onto his shoulders a touch too hard before taking a flying leap onto Charlie, who howled.

Logan only shrugged in return and rose to his feet, pushing his hands into his pockets. It _was_ a victory, for all of them. The biggest thing they had managed to do in all their years at Dalton so far. It was a huge victory. And he knew he should be happy to win, especially when he did anything that won over his father, but….

The silence that he heard in his head blocked off the cacophony in the halls. It was like the air had fled the room, as Logan watched as Kurt and Blaine stood apart from the others. He watched as something quiet, something detached from the celebrations, took place. He had seen them tuck themselves away from the loudness, finding a quiet place, with just each other.

They were ensconced by one of the great curtained windows. They stood very close, and they whispered to each other. And Logan watched them lean their foreheads together. In Blaine's hands was a flash of color—it looked like a ring made entirely of bubblegum wrappers.

He was whispering something, something only for Kurt, something he wanted to say, after the many times he had nearly lost him in this month alone.

And Logan, standing there, realized that with this victory for their school, with an endless unknown facing them, everything around him was about to change.

"What are you promising?" Kurt whispered.

"To always love you," Blaine replied. He stared into Kurt's eyes and didn't waver. "To defend you even if I know you're wrong. To surprise you. To always pick up your call no matter what I'm doing. To bake _you_ cookies at least twice a year and to kiss you whenever and wherever you want. Mostly to make sure you remember how perfectly imperfect you are."

Kurt pressed his fingers to Blaine's lips, gently, to quiet him. "I love you."

Blaine looked at Kurt as though he were his whole world. He took the hand that was on his lips. "I love you too."

Closing his eyes, Logan shut out the sight. He had never heard any vow with that kind of gravity before. He wished that he hadn't listened. The words were not his to hear, and though not very long ago, he would've willingly intruded—he felt shame for listening at all.

He realized something true along with his words: that Blaine would keep to his word come hell or high water, and that Logan, no matter how strongly he felt for Kurt, would never be able to match the conviction with which Blaine said those words. He could never do anything that would compel anyone to say those words to him, and he wasn't a good enough person to ever promise such a thing to anyone.

He knew that without a doubt.

…Which was why he didn't understand why it still broke his heart.

He didn't notice when Derek had appeared behind him. "Before all this, you said...you said you were going to let go of Kurt."

"…I did." Logan shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts away.

"…So where does that put you now?" Derek frowned, stepping forward.

Confused, Logan turned around. "What?"

"Where does that put you now...after what..." Derek stopped and seemed to brace himself before continuing, "...after what happened with Julian?"

"Him, I'm…not letting go of." Logan replied, glaring at him. "But the things he said…I can't think about that right now." After a pause, he added, "...I can't remember."

"…Remember what?"

"…It's going to sound horrible but…I can't remember what the last nice thing I've said to him was. …Can you believe that? I can't…I can't remember what I last thing I said to his face that was…good.""

Derek wasn't sure how to respond to that. Logan stared at him and then just shook his head when he realized he wasn't going to get an answer from Derek. He stopped when he felt his phone vibrate. Hissing in annoyance, he yanked it out of his pocket, and did a double take when he realized who was calling.

"Logan?" Derek walked up to him when he saw the look on his face.

Now _all_ the air in the room was gone for Logan, so much that he couldn't breathe any in. "Excuse me." He pulled the phone to his ear and fled.

"Logan!" Derek chased after him.

Reed, who was trying to get a sneaky shot of Kurt and Blaine, who looked ultimately too picturesque by that window, gasped and squeaked as he got knocked back by the two fleeing Stuarts. Trying to save the all-important camera, he stumbled backwards and cringed, bracing himself for the hit, but he only felt warm hands.

"Hey." Shane grinned, upside down over Reed. "Now, aren't you glad I'm transferring here? Now I can catch you all the time."

"If that's your way of saying I'm falling for you a lot…" Reed squirmed, straightening up. "And that is no way to speak to your upperclassman, Shane Anderson."

"Oh really." Shane grinned, towering over Reed rather easily. "I apologize. I'll make sure to behave more respectfully next time. Can I do anything for you? Can I carry your books for you? Or maybe that camera?"

"Shh, I'm trying to protect it, okay?" Reed laughed. "I know it's important to you both. Now dial it down while I see if I got a picture of Blaine and Kurt to add to their fond memories."

"I'm going to go mess with them," Shane declared, far too happy. "The only people allowed to be sappy around here are you and me." He winked, forcing a blushing Reed to swat at him. The artist missed his mark—and the dancer was then leaping towards his brother and the boyfriend.

Over the annoyed banter between the two Andersons and one very happy Kurt, Reed looked through the photographs in the camera. He was still getting the hang of it. He smiled when he saw all the memories from the barricade, all the way to today.

Things were going to change.

And then, when he fiddled with a few buttons, he came to a stop. The screen was showing something else. Something Reed was absolutely sure he did not photograph. The timestamp on the image was from years ago. His hands started to go cold, holding tight onto the camera.

"Reed, you okay?" Shane asked, frowning, noting the look on Reed's face, seeing how pale he went suddenly. Blaine and Kurt were staring at him. "Reed?"

"Oh…my god…" white as a sheet, Reed looked up, hands shaking, chest tight. "Blaine?"

"What is it?" frowning, Blaine made to go to Reed, but Logan and Derek returned into the hallway. To say that Logan looked completely distressed was a vast understatement. He was white as a sheet. "Whoa! Logan, what's going on?"

He was ignored. Logan was staring at his phone like he was waiting for it to explode. Derek had a hand on his arm. "Logan, you need to calm down!"

Kurt had his attention now torn between Logan and Reed. He kept Reed close instead, holding onto his shoulders and trying to get him to breathe even as the other boy tried to speak but was stammering to badly to be understood. "Reed, just calm down, you have to tell me why you're—"

The phone in Logan's hand suddenly rang shrilly, making everyone jump. Logan punched a finger at the screen so hard it could've cracked. "Yeah, this is Logan, I'm sorry, you got cut off earlier and—"

There was a pause as Logan listened. His entire body suddenly tensed, frozen and rooted to the spot. Derek looked up immediately, sensing the complete change. "Lo? Logan, what—"

Blaine watched as the blonde boy seemed to have stopped breathing completely, no sound coming from his mouth as he unsteadily sat down, his face contorted in what looked like pain. Frowning, he stepped past the Windsors and went to him. "Logan...?"

"Shh—" Derek kept him back, staring at Logan intently.

"I—yes, I…I understand…" Logan choked out. His hands began to shake. Derek moved to him at once. "…Thank you for…telling me. I—" He closed his eyes and hung up, practically throwing the phone away from him before he sank his face into his hands, curling into himself.

"Logan!" Derek clutched his shoulders. "Hey, what happened? Who was that? Say something!"

"What's going on?" Kurt's voice sounded in Blaine's ear and the latter looked up to see him standing next to him. "What happened?"

"I don't know…." Blaine replied, feeling a painful twist in his gut as he looked back to the boy he once loved. Logan wasn't answering Derek, but he was shaking as though he had a fever. "He just…there was a phone call and…."

"Logan!" Derek was almost yelling, white as a sheet and looking pale. "Come on, tell me, who _was_ that?!"

"…Carmen…" Logan managed to say, his voice broken. "…at the hospital…." At that, Derek jerked back from Logan as though his hands were burning. Logan raised his eyes to him. "…and she…she said…"

* * *

"Do you…" Dolce Larson, standing outside the hospital room's door, cleared her throat carefully. She was very good at hiding her emotions; she was very good at controlling all emotion. This was her job. She got awards for it. "…So you think there…there might be any damage?"

"His outlook is still better than what we normally expect in cases like his, Ms. Larson," the doctor tried to reassure her.

"But he…his heart _stopped_, yesterday, I—" she had to stop again. Behind her, Carmen was very quiet, her phone in hand. "…hasn't he had enough damage?"

"I'm…I'm very sorry, but we really can't know until your son wakes up." The doctor pushed up his glasses. "I have to tell you that I still urge very strongly against moving your son in his condition. Moving a patient in this state might…well, it can make things much worse."

"I want my son _home_," she told him with conviction, and a large warm hand covered hers. Travis Armstrong, Dolce's divorced husband, carefully drew her away.

"I can't agree with this, Dolce," he told her. "We can move Julian back to Los Angeles once he wakes up."

Dolce glared at him with some hatred. Travis wouldn't know. He had been missing a lot since she and he divorced. He wasn't the one who had to watch Julian lie there and seriously consider that her son may _never_ wake up. To be told that her son might not wake up at all. Her son was out of the world for mere seconds, but it could've been forever.

As the talk outside continued, Julian's room stayed quiet. The only sounds that permeated it was the sound of the beats being counted by the heart monitor, the sound of the snuffling from a little hedgehog cage, and the soft blooming noises on Julian's phone, which was left on the pile of the school things that had been brought in. It rattled with each vibration, as it sat on top of a new CD that had been left along with it.

There were many messages, and majority of them were from people who were not expecting him to answer. They were simply well wishes, popping in every now and again, for a boy that wouldn't read them.

_Come back soon. (from everyone in Windsor) – E&E._

_Whatever happens, don't forget: you did good. (from the Drama Club) – T.C._

_See you soon back in Cali. – C.S._

_We'll be waiting for you. – D.S._

The newest one was: _I'm expecting you when I get there. – S.S._

They came in, more or less regularly, in a number that would have surprised the boy on the bed. Messages from his business number were plentiful. On his personal one, not so much.

As one after another, the alerts came in, the little hedgehog in the cage came out to explore, hoping to find some morsel of food he might have overlooked.

_Please wake up. Please. - L.W._

It was because the hedgehog was so diligent, and so naturally wary, that he witnessed what the adults outside the door did not. The little snout twitched, when he thought he saw a few fingers flutter movement. The animal froze.

And slowly, a pair of sepia eyes opened.

* * *

The sun was lancing through the leaves as Sylvia Medel walked down a cleared path through the freshly-cut grass, the wind blowing at her hair under the wide-brimmed black hat.

She was alone, when she walked through the shade of the trees, and towards the open ground where a headstone rested, seemingly no different from the others.

She had gone every day since the funeral. It was becoming difficult to explain where she was going, and it was difficult to make sure to visit when no one else was around.

As she stopped before the headstone, she smiled faintly, as she always did, at the little warblers carved into the headstone's corners. She reached over, swept away what little dirt and leaves had gathered—how could they gather, really, when she did the same thing every day?—and knelt down, ignoring the grass stains on her stockings.

"Hello, Greg," she murmured, eyes misty. "I hope I'm not disturbing you. It's troublesome to have me come over so often, isn't it?"

She carefully set down the white rose in her hand, the silence almost companionable. "I went to see the doctor today. He said I was…well, I'm healthy. And so is the baby."

She paused for a moment and added, "I suppose you're very angry with me."

A couple of birds twittered from the trees. "…you shouldn't worry about the boys," she told the air. "They'll be alright. I'm sure I'll have a lot of comforting to do, because they won't be able to go to Regionals anymore, and you and I had gotten them so excited, and they had worked so hard. But we all have to just…keep going anyway."

She stared into the distance and sighed. She had sat once before with her legs tucked under her, just like this, next to Greg Harvey, when they were out on a small picnic with the Warblers. They sat in the shade and ate together while the boys went crazy, playing a game of croquet and doing a delightfully horrible job at it.

It was strange. When she sat here, she didn't feel very much as though Greg was gone. Maybe the boys were right…and he wasn't really gone. He was never going to be gone.

She looked to the headstone again, and smiled more when she noticed little things that hadn't been there yesterday. She recognized a pen Kurt had borrowed once from the teacher, and a photograph of the warblers that had been on Blaine's desk. A model car from the Christmas box that had been given to Wes was near it, with a tin soldier paperweight that David used to help pin down music sheets. A pair of identical carved wooden yellow warblers kept watch like the Twins, and they were sitting on a beautifully sculpted little flower vase of student clay that could've only been made by Reed's hands held the other flowers from other visitors.

A few music sheets, with Logan's handwriting at the top, rested nearby.

_We're singing for you now, Mr. Harvey._

Sylvia smiled at all these things, and found that she suddenly missed those boys. And she was sure Greg did as well. She realized that perhaps it was time to return to her duties, and care for them, for both her and Greg's sake.

She was going to stop coming every day. Greg would want her to be elsewhere, not here.

_Fare thee well my own true love…_

_Farewell for a while…I'm going away…_

_But I'll be back…though I go ten thousand miles…_

Sylvia Medel knew where she had to go when she got up. She walked into Dalton Academy's South and Main, and into the hall where she knew the students were still running amok. She passed the board in the hall that had the faces of all the teachers.

The other staff made way, and allowed her to be the one to take Greg Harvey's photograph from the board.

_Ten thousand miles, my own true love…_

_Ten thousand miles or more…_

_The rocks may melt…and the seas may burn…_

_If I should not return…_

She stood alone in her department, the only music teacher left now, with the other faculty members. But she held in a satchel the papers that had Greg's plans for the group of adopted sons that the two of them had cared for in this home away from their parents.

_Oh don't you see that lonesome dove…_

_Sitting on an ivy tree…_

_She's weeping for her own true love…_

_As I shall weep for mine…_

She smiled as she entered the silent Warbler's hall. She still had Greg's photograph and name in her hands. As she set the satchel full of the future onto the piano, she moved to the back of the room, where the memories of Warblers long past were.

She smiled, when she opened this year's book. Scribbles greeted her, from restless Warbler hands. All of them greeting their teacher.

She carefully pressed the name and the photo into the empty space that had been clearly set aside.

She closed the book.

_Oh come ye back, my own true love…_

_And stay a while with me…_

_If I had a friend all on this earth…_

_You've been a friend to me…_

"Ms. Medel!"

The voices sounded distant, echoing, but they roused her from her thoughts and she looked up. She saw the Warblers, standing at the doorway, crashing into each other in their haste. Thad was running in with Danny and Jeff. They looked worried and scared, like birds flying to safety to her.

"Come quick, Ms. Medel!"

"Kurt's trying to help but Blaine needs someone, something about his old friend—"

"It's Logan, he got some news, we think he's not okay—!"

"We need you to help—!"

They were pulling her along now, and she hurried with them, her footsteps echoing in the empty hall. She knew it was time to be strong now.

She had sons to look after.

* * *

_**In the next episode**__: You are all cordially invited to the wedding (sort-of) of the future Mr. and Mrs. David and Katherine Rivers-Sullivan. Of course, there's still quite a bit of stuff to work on before the day of, and there's still so much to deal with in the aftermath. So while some of the boys may be dodging color themes and flower arrangements, the Dalton boys have to consider the Warblers' future in the glee club competitions, help Blaine deal with the discovery of a secret inside the camera, keep Logan in one piece, and come to the realization that yes: your next big problem is Prom Night._


End file.
